


The Eccentric and His Loyal Accomplices

by Svartalfhild



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Adventure, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Potterlock, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-04
Updated: 2015-05-19
Packaged: 2017-12-28 10:32:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 75,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/990996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Svartalfhild/pseuds/Svartalfhild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nearly thirty years before Harry Potter's time at Hogwarts, there was another trio that was always there when something happened: Sherlock Holmes, Molly Hooper, and John Watson.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Plot Twist

**Author's Note:**

> This story begins in 1962, eight years prior to the start of Lord Voldemort's first reign of terror. I will attempt to make use of as many Sherlock characters as possible whilst fitting them as best I can into the canon Harry Potter world. The list of characters and relationships will probably become quite large by the time I'm done with this.

Molly Hooper considered herself wholly unremarkable, though she had a habit of poking at dead animals and seemed to be very good at going unnoticed. The idea that she was important and belonged somewhere was foreign to her. The matron of the girls' home where she lived was not a particularly kind or forgiving woman and had thus done nothing but encourage Molly's bleak view of herself. Imagine the eleven year old's surprise when a strange woman named Professor Sprout showed up one August afternoon at the door, asking to speak with Molly Hooper.

"Good morning. My name is Pomona Sprout. I'm a professor at a school Molly Hooper has been invited to attend." She greeted with a cheery smile. Mrs. Digby, the matron, stood there for a long moment and stared disbelievingly at the woman standing before her. She then turned to walk over to the foot of the staircase and shout to the eleven year old.

"Molly! Get down here!" A minute later, Molly came running down the stairs, her brown eyes lit up with excitement. It didn't sound like she was in trouble. Maybe someone was finally interested in taking her in. She beamed at the stocky, frizzy haired woman by the door who was smiling warmly at her.

"Hello, Molly. I'm Professor Sprout. I've come to discuss Hogwarts."

"Sorry? H-Hogwarts?"

"Yes. It's a school for boys and girls like you. Here is your letter." She took from her coat an envelope sealed with wax and handed it to Molly, who hesitantly opened it. The more she read, the wider her eyes became.

"A school...for witches and wizards?" She asked in shock. Before the professor could answer, Mrs. Digby snatched the letter from Molly's hands and scanned it with her beady blue eyes.

"What tomfoolery is this?! Is this some sick scheme?!" The matron demanded. "A school that teaches magic?! Do you honestly expect me to believe that?! Molly, if this is your idea of a joke-"

"I don't know anything about this, I swear!" Clearly Mrs. Digby didn't believe her, because she grabbed Molly by the collar and looked as if she was about to throw her across the room. Sprout acted quickly in the girl's defense.

"Please, calm down, madam. The poor girl hasn't done anything wrong. These things often happen when Muggleborns get their letters. It's perfectly understandable that you are alarmed, but there is no need to shout." The professor soothed and Mrs. Digby's anger was replaced with resigned confusion. Slowly, she let go of Molly. "Is there somewhere I can talk to Molly privately?"

"I suppose you can use my office." The matron replied grudgingly and showed them through a door off the entry hall. It was the nicest Molly ever remembered Mrs. Digby being and was probably because the severe matron saw this as an opportunity to be rid of her. Professor Sprout took a seat in one of the two chairs in front of Mrs. Digby's desk and gestured for Molly to take the other one. The creaking of the old wooden seat did nothing to calm her nerves.

"Um, what does Muggleborn mean, professor?" she asked. Her mind was overwhelmed with questions and that was the only one that was able to make it out of her coherently.

"It's the term for a witch or wizard who was born to Muggle parents and Muggle is our word for a non-magic person."

"But how can I be...a witch? I'm not special o-or talented and I certainly don't know anything about magic." She was just dull, quiet, mediocre Molly. Nothing more, nothing less.

"Ah, but you are, Molly. Have you ever made something happen that you couldn't explain?"

"Well, one time, a girl at school was chasing me and I fell, but she ran right past me like she couldn't see me lying there. She thought I'd run around the corner."

"There you are, then. You're a witch, Molly, and if you'd like, you can come to school at Hogwarts and learn how to control your powers." It was too good to be true, in Molly's opinion, to suddenly be given an extraordinary chance to get away from this place. It was a nice dream, so Molly decided that she would go along with it for however long it lasted.

"I don't want to seem rude or anything, but why did the school send you to talk to me?" Fortunately, Professor Sprout seemed to know what Molly meant by that.

"Oh, well, they seem to think you're likely to be sorted into Hufflepuff and I'm Hufflepuff's Head of House. I must say, I think they're right. You'd fit in nicely." The plump woman answered, sounding a little excited. Unfortunately, Molly was even more baffled than she was before.

"Hufflepuff?"

"That's one of the four houses at Hogwarts. The other three are Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. You're not a Slytherin. I can see that clear as day."

"Oh, um, okay... There was a list of things I need for school with my letter, like a cauldron and a wand. I don't know where to find any of that stuff. And I need to get to King's Cross Station to get on the train for school, but I don't have a way of getting there." As Molly spoke, she began to realize just how many problems she was going to have in preparing for school and it was overwhelming. Professor Sprout gave her a comforting pat on the shoulder.

"Don't you worry, dear. A wizarding family has graciously agreed to help you there. Mr. Holmes will come and get you on Saturday to take you to Diagon Alley so you can get your things. He has a little brother who's beginning at Hogwarts this year as well, so there will be someone your own age with you." She consoled. Molly gave her a nervous smile in return. "Do you have any other questions?" In truth, the young girl had many, many questions swirling around in her head, but she couldn't think of a single one that didn't make her feel silly.

"No, ma'am." She answered meekly.

"Well, in that case, I better be off. It was lovely meeting you, Molly. I look forward to seeing you at Hogwarts in September."

"It was wonderful meeting you too," Molly said as Professor Sprout got up from her own creaky chair. The plump witch shook her hand and made for the door. "Goodbye."

"Goodbye, dear. Remember, Mr. Mycroft Holmes will be coming to collect you this Saturday at precisely eight o'clock, and I mean  _precisely_. That young man has a very strong sense of punctuality." With that, she was gone and Molly was left sitting in Mrs. Digby's office, wondering if any of what she had just experienced was real. Over the next few days, she read and reread her letter many times and even took to carrying it with her around the girls' home, just to remind herself that she wasn't going mad and that she was indeed a witch bound for a school that taught such people. The other girls didn't know what to make of it all. A few of them who believed it started calling her a freak. Others called her a liar or simply stopped acknowledging her all together. Molly tried not to let it get her down. Instead, she spent her time daydreaming about the world she would soon be a part of. She had no idea what it would be like, but she had a lot of fun making it up.

On Saturday morning, Molly got up at the crack of dawn to get ready for Mycroft Holmes' arrival. She quietly slipped out of her bunk and dressed herself in her best clothes. Of course, her best clothes weren't much. Her jumper and skirt were worn and faded and her shoes were rather beat up (though she did spend an hour cleaning the mud off them). She stowed her Hogwarts letter in the pocket she'd sown to the inside of her jumper and got herself a bit of toast before going to sit on the bottom step of the staircase to anxiously await the man who would take her to a place called Diagon Alley, wherever that was. Mrs. Digby appeared not much later out of her office door to scold Molly about eating toast in the entry hall. The matron thought this entire matter was complete madness, but she had stopped questioning it for the simple reason that it would get troublesome, unnatural Molly Hooper away from the girls' home for most of the year and she didn't have to foot any of the bill. That was good enough for her. Despite her acceptance of the situation, however, Mrs. Digby seemed to have decided that no witch or wizard was worth her respect, thus making it imperative for her to be rude when Mycroft Holmes arrived with his little brother.

Just as Professor Sprout had said, the wizard came through the front door of the girls' home at exactly eight o'clock, an eleven year old boy in tow. Both pairs of shockingly blue eyes immediately looked to her.

"You must be Molly Hooper. I am Mycroft Holmes and this is my younger brother, Sherlock." The man greeted. His accent was posh and he annunciated every word with precision. Molly had only ever heard anyone talk that way on television and suddenly felt even more timid than usual. She slowly stood up and approached the two wizards. Sherlock seemed to be silently scrutinizing her appearance, which she supposed was only natural given that he and his brother were both dressed impeccably.

"Can we go now, brother? This place reeks of bad cooking and sick." The boy complained and Mrs. Digby must have heard him because she came down the stairs, pushing past the girls observing Molly's visitors from the railing above.

"Oi! You two take Molly and go. I don't want your sort hanging around here." She snapped, her eyes narrowing as she pointed a stubby finger at Mr. Holmes.

"We were just leaving." He replied coolly. "Come along, Ms. Hooper." Without need for further prompting, Molly hastily and eagerly followed the Holmes brothers out. In the street, there was a car waiting for them, which they quickly climbed into. Molly had only been in a car twice before, so this added to the excitement of the situation. Mycroft directed the driver to take them somewhere called the Leaky Cauldron before turning back to look at the pair of eleven year olds sitting across from him. "I'm sorry, Ms. Hooper, but that is a _dreadful_  place to call home. It's a miracle that you've survived this long."

"It's alright, Mr. Holmes. I can't tell you how glad I am to be getting away from there, if only for a little while." Molly responded, feeling slightly less awkward. The corners of Mycroft's lips twitched into a brief smile. "Um, Sherlock. You're starting at Hogwarts this year too, yeah? Are you excited?" Molly turned to the boy sitting next to her who seemed to be in a rather poor mood. He didn't even look at her and continued to stared out the window when he spoke.

"What's there to be excited about? I might be getting away from Mycroft's nagging, but I'll have to suffer  _rules_  and live a structured life for the next seven years." Sherlock grumbled and his elder brother grimaced.

"You'll have to forgive my brother's attitude. Magic isn't anything new to him and he considers school to be more of a limitation on a his will to learn than a liberation of it."

"Oh! He must be very, very smart, then." This succeeded in finally grabbing Sherlock's attention and earning Molly a proper smile from Mycroft.

"Yes, he is. You are of uncommon intelligence yourself, it seems. No doubt you've read every book you could get your hands on. I see why my mother chose to sponsor you of all of the Muggleborns this year." He told her and Sherlock stared at her blankly, the latter unnerving her a little. After a moment, he seemed to lose interest and looked out the window for the rest of the car ride. "Ah! Here we are." Mycroft announced when they'd pulled up outside an inn labelled the Leaky Cauldron. "If you can see an inn in front of you, Ms. Hooper, you need not have any further doubts about whether or not you are a witch." Judging by the grin on Molly's face, he knew that she could see it. They all climbed out of the car and entered the Leaky Cauldron. It was packed with all sorts of oddly dressed people and as they passed through to the back, Molly swore she could see someone's knife cutting a piece of steak by itself. She followed the Holmes brothers through another door that lead them to a small, walled in courtyard occupied only by a dustbin at the back. Mycroft promptly approached it and detached the handle of his umbrella to reveal a wand. "Watch carefully, Ms. Hooper. You will need to remember this in future." He traced his wand over the bricks in the wall, going up three from the dustbin and two across, then firmly tapped the brick there. A second later, the bricks began to move and form an archway on the other side of which was a bustling street of witches and wizards. Molly stood there a moment and gazed in awe at the sight before her. Sherlock seemed completely unimpressed and unceremoniously pushed past her to step into Diagon Alley.

"Come on. We haven't got all day." He called and she obediently followed, still with an expression of amazement plastered across her face. She didn't know where to look first. Diagon Alley was a feast for her eyes that made her burn with curiosity.

"It's best if you stay close to me. Both of you. Small children are easily lost in this sort of crowd." Mycroft cautioned. Molly listened to him without question, but Sherlock didn't pay him much mind and walked a few yards ahead of them. "We'll go to Ollivander's first and get your wands. Then we'll get your school robes sorted at Twillfit and Tattings and- what's the matter, Ms. Hooper?" Molly had suddenly stopped and stood frozen in and expression of horror and embarrassment.

"I-I haven't got any money. How am I supposed to pay for everything I need?"

"No need to worry. I'll pay for everything." Mycroft assured her, relieved that there wasn't an actual problem.

"Oh, no! I couldn't possibly-"

"It's fine. It's all part of sponsoring you." He pressed and she relented, though somewhat reluctantly. They made their way to Ollivander's Wand Shop. The peeling gold lettering above the door read 'Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C.' and Molly gaped, never having heard of a business being around so long. They stepped inside and were soon greeted by a thin old man with wild eyes.

"Ah! Mr. Mycroft Holmes- Alder, 14 inches, dragon heartstring, nice and sturdy. Good to see you again, and with a pair of young students looking to buy their first wands, I see. Wonderful," the man who could only be Ollivander said excitedly. Mycroft gave him a courteous smile in return.

"This is my younger brother, Sherlock, and Molly Hooper, a Muggleborn we're sponsoring. I think you had better place Ms. Hooper first as I have a feeling my brother will be even more difficult than I was."

"I see. Very well. Come over here, my dear, and we will begin." She nervously came to stand in the spot he indicated and a measuring tape began to measure her all on its own. Ollivander went to take an armful of thin boxes from the shelves and place them on the desk beside Molly. He handed her a wand and told her to give it a wave. She did so and nothing happened. Before she had time to express her bewilderment, Ollivander snatched the wand from her and gave her another one much longer and darker in color. She waved it and it emitted a loud bang. This was apparently not what the wandmaker was looking for, because he took that one from her as well. After another five wands, he handed her a medium sized one of a rich, golden color. When she twirled it, a stream of shimmering, pink bubbles came from the end and Ollivander smiled. "Pear, 12 ¼ inches, unicorn hair, supple. That is the wand of a good natured witch, Ms. Hooper. It will serve you well."

"Thank you very much, Mr. Ollivander." Molly replied with a broad grin.

"You are most welcome." Mycroft promptly paid the wandmaker for Molly's wand and nudged his little brother forward. "Ah, Mr. Holmes the Younger. Where to start with you...I think it's best we stick to the rarer woods." With his own suggestions in mind, Ollivander set to work. As Mycroft had predicted, it took ages to find the right wand for Sherlock. By the time the boy was handed a very long black one, Ollivander had nearly had his eyebrows burnt off several times. With a swish of this last wand, a shower of silver sparks shot out of it in a rather beautiful display, signifying that it had chosen Sherlock. "Very fitting for an uncommon fellow like yourself." The wandmaker commented. "Ebony, 16 inches, dragon heartstring, quite unyielding. It's curious that I sold it's brother only yesterday to another young wizard. Spruce, 13 inches, dragon heartstring from the very same dragon that gave the core of your wand. I think we can expect interesting things from both of you." Sherlock did not seem particularly surprised or enthralled by the wandmaker's words, but Molly listened with rapt interest. It was to be expected, given that all of this was so new to her. Mycroft paid for his brother's wand and they went on their way to the next part of her extraordinary day.

"For this stop, I'm afraid we're going to need to perform a bit of deception. You see, Twillfit and Tattings is a rather upscale establishment with certain attitudes about Muggleborns and less wealthy people."

"Oh." Molly breathed, suddenly feeling like an enormous burden on the Holmeses.

"Don't fret. I will simply make your clothes look newer and refer to you as our cousin." He waved his wand and Molly's clothes looked for a moment like they were going back in time, reversing every bit of damage that had been done to them over the years. Molly's smile returned and the trio entered the shop. Madam Twillfit greeted Mycroft cheerly, though her smile faltered when she caught sight of Molly.

"And who might this be?" the seamstress asked, narrowing her eyes in scrutiny. Clearly she did not approve of Molly's taste in clothing.

"This is our cousin, Molly Hooper. She'll be needing school robes like Sherlock." In moments, Molly found herself standing perfectly still while her robes sewed themselves around her. The same was being done for Sherlock (who seemed bored out of his mind) and another girl, who was staring at Molly.

"If they _are_ your family, they aren't taking very good care of you, letting you wear such a terrible jumper. And your shoes, they're not even proper girl's shoes. Everything about you is tacky, right down to your horrible little pigtails. I can't imagine why Madam Twillfit let you in here." The girl sneered and Molly frowned at her. What had she done to deserve such rude remarks? Molly looked anxiously over at Mycroft as if to ask for help, but he was busy talking to the rude girl's parents.

"If there is anything wrong here it's your ill manner. Of course, I would expect nothing less from a girl who kicks her father in the shin when he objects to buying her all the sweets she wants." Sherlock finally spoke up and looked over to glare at the girl who was being nasty to Molly.

"Mummy, Mummy! This boy is being mean to me!" She whined, catching the attention of both her parents and Sherlock's elder brother, the latter of whom let out the sigh of a person who has had to deal with this sort of thing many times.

"What did you say to my daughter?" The mother demanded, gazing down at Sherlock indignantly. The boy was completely unfazed.

"Madam, your child is a menace." Sherlock told her flatly and Mycroft scowled at him.

"Well! Of all the impertinent things! Good day, Mr. Holmes. Do teach your brother to be civil."

"I'm very sorry, Mrs. Rilliant. I've tried, but Sherlock is a problem child if I ever saw one. Good day." Mycroft apologized as the unmannerly family left in a hurry. He then turned to continue scowling at Sherlock while the finishing touches on the eleven year olds' robes were sewn. As his brother spoke with Madam Twillfit about payment for the robes, Sherlock's striking gaze fell on Molly.

"Why did you let her insult you like that?" he asked.

"It's alright. I'm used to verbal abuse. Besides, I didn't want to give her the satisfaction of seeing me upset or behave rudely myself. Thank you for defending me, though, even if you weren't very nice."

"I was only being honest. She was irritating and I wanted her gone. It had nothing to do with aiding you." Sherlock replied coldly before following his brother out of the shop. It was the first time in a long while that Molly had felt genuinely hurt by someone's lack of concern for her. She tried not to let it show, but she did seem to lose some enthusiasm for this adventure and Mycroft noticed.

"I take it my dear brother has said something to dampen your mood, Ms. Hooper." He commented as he led her over to a selection of trunks in the next shop they visited. "You should know that you are actually doing marvelously. Most people, adults and children alike, would be tearing their hair out by now. Of course, your resistance may owe in no small part to the fact that Sherlock has been remarkably quiet on this trip so far, particularly to you. I think we can safely take that it is a sign that he likes you in some small way. That is nothing to sneeze at, considering the way he treats almost everyone." Molly found these words to be very encouraging and the spark of excitement returned to her features. She spent the rest of the trip in high spirits and did not allow Sherlock's attitude to dishearten her. Mycroft was so pleased by the way things were going that when they were done with the shopping, he took them to Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour. This seemed to cure a portion of his little brother's mood and made Molly very happy.

When it came time to leave and they had all piled back into the car in front of the Leaky Cauldron, Molly Hooper's wide smile began to fade as she started to realize that in only a half an hour, she would be back at the girls' home and away from amazing things and the Holmes brothers who had treated her so much better than anyone at home.

"Be up early and ready to go on September 1st, Ms. Hooper. We will be coming to collect you for the train to Hogwarts. In the meantime, be careful and don't try to perform any magic." Mycroft informed her as they pulled up in front of the girl's home.

"Thank you, Mr. Holmes. You've been very kind to me." Molly replied with a nod. The wizard gave her a polite smile in return before ordering his brother to help Molly get her trunk out of the boot of the car. Sherlock grudgingly complied and seemed puzzled by the warm way the girl looked at him as he helped her.

"My brother thinks you'll be a Ravenclaw, you know. He's wrong. You'll be in Hufflepuff." He told her blankly.

"Well, uh, you're not the first one to say that. Thank you for helping with my trunk. I'll see you soon." Sherlock only quirked an eyebrow and went back to the car in response. Molly watched the Holmeses drive away and she felt strange, like she'd just fully realized that her life was about to drastically change.


	2. Hooper, Molly

For the week and a half between her trip to Diagon Alley and the first day of school, Molly Hooper spent the majority of her time in her bunk, reading the fascinating books she'd gotten for school. She actually read a few of them twice simply because she found them so interesting. She avoided interaction with the other residents of the girls' home and immersed her mind in the world of magic, effectively keeping up her spirits until she was due to leave. That day could not come soon enough, in her opinion. At dawn on September 1st, Molly sat on the front steps of the girls' home with her trunk and waited for the Holmes brothers to arrive. She hoped they got there before Mrs. Digby awoke, went into the kitchen, and realized that there were two apples missing from the bowl. Part of the reason Molly was already outside was so that she couldn't be thrown out to the curb. Just as she heard the kitchen door slam inside, her ride rolled up and she moved as quickly as she could to herself and her things in the car.

"You're in quite a hurry, Ms. Hooper." Mycroft commented as he looked at his fob watch. Before answering, Molly glanced through the back window at the rapidly shrinking girls' home.

"Mrs. Digby'll be cross that I took a couple of her beloved apples. I didn't want to stick around and get beaten." The girl explained, relaxing in her seat. Sherlock seemed somewhat less bored next to her than last time, but he still didn't looked at her or say a word.

"You should note that if I hear of you receiving any such treatment at Hogwarts, action will be taken." Mycroft told her sternly, seemingly disgusted by the idea that Molly had been beaten at home. She beamed back at him. Then she was distracted by a tiny squeaking noise and looked over to see that Sherlock had something light brown and furry in his hand.

"Is that a mouse?" she asked.

"His name is Basil." Sherlock informed her, setting the little rodent on his leg, only to have it scurry onto the sleeve of Molly's jumper and up to her shoulder. She didn't scream or act frightened in any way. In fact, she giggled and reached up to gently pet Basil, which he seemed to like. "Interesting," was all Sherlock had to say about it and the rest of the car ride was spent watching Basil explore the back seat.

When they arrived at King's Cross Station, Basil went in Sherlock's jacket pocket and they put their trunks on trollies. For a minute, Molly was very confused about the station. She could see there was a Platform 9 and a Platform 10, but no Platform 9 ¾ in between. She asked Sherlock why that was and he only rolled his eyes and strode directly towards the barrier in front of them. Molly's breath hitched as she thought he was going to crash, but he disappeared. She gaped and looked to Mycroft, who smiled down at her.

"Better hurry. The train will be leaving soon."

"So I just...I just walk confidently into the barrier and I'll find the train?"

"Precisely. Now, off you go. Good luck and do remind my brother to write every so often." Molly nodded at this and said goodbye before walking straight for the barrier. Suddenly, she found herself on Platform 9 ¾. There was a crowd of students and parents and a red train labelled 'Hogwarts Express'. She couldn't see Sherlock anywhere. He was probably already on the train. It took her a bit to find his compartment. He was alone and he looked up at her when she came in, seemingly peeved to have his solitude disturbed.

"Um, is it alright if I sit with you? I don't want to bother you, but it's just that I don't know anyone else here and I know you won't make fun of me for being odd. I'm probably bothering you. I'll just go and-"

"It's fine." Sherlock told her and helped her lift her trunk onto the shelf above the seats. Molly blushed and sat down to watch the train leave the station. Parents waved their children goodbye and Molly felt a pang of sadness as she imagined her dad waving at her.

"I wonder what it's like to have someone to wave to." She mused and Sherlock scoffed.

"It's nothing special." He grumbled and took Basil out of his pocket to place him on the seat beside him. "I take it you've read all your textbooks already." Molly perked up at this and nodded fervently.

"Yeah, I've been dying to try some of the spells, but your brother said it's best if I don't until I start classes."

"To hell with what Mycroft says. You can have a go now, if you like. It's not illegal here." Sherlock took out his own wand and looked at Molly expectantly. "You first, then." With a cautious excitement, the girl drew her wand and waved it, muttering  _lumos_. A light appeared at the end of her wand and she grinned. After a moment, she said  _nox_  and the light died. Sherlock then made a precise motion with his own wand and very clearly stated the words  _wingardium leviosa_. Basil began to float in the air, squeaking indignantly as he went. Sherlock let the poor mouse down on Molly's lap after having him do a few circuits of the compartment.

"That's brilliant!" she exclaimed and Sherlock smirked. It was the first time she'd seen him smile and she found herself entranced by it. Now that she thought about it, there was something unusually beautiful about the way he looked that reached beyond age. "I bet you've memorized nearly all the spells in our textbooks."

"Yes, I have. We'll have access to more books in the Hogwarts library, which by all accounts is quite extensive." Sherlock told her and her cheeks hurt with the width of her grin. She'd never met anyone like him, so clever and passionate about learning.

"I suspect I'll be spending a lot of my free time there, then."

"Likewise." This was met with a comfortable silence that lasted a long while. Molly played with Basil while Sherlock lay across the seat and stared up at the ceiling, his hands steepled under his chin.

"Anything off the trolly, dears?" a woman asked them, interrupting the quiet of the compartment in the middle of the afternoon. Molly shook her head, holding up an apple with a sad smile. Even if she did want something off the trolly, she couldn't pay for it. Just as that thought occurred to her, Sherlock stood up and retrieved a few gold coins from his pocket to hand to the woman. He bought an armload of food, half of which he gave to Molly. She gaped at him and sputtered a flustered thank you.

"I can't eat all of these chocolate frogs by myself." He told her simply before opening one of said chocolate frogs. Molly watched in amazement as the chocolate came to life and attempted to escape Sherlock like a real frog. He swiftly caught it as it jumped and popped it in his mouth. Molly's expression caused him to frown. "Oh, right. Food doesn't do that in the Muggle world, does it. Your life must have been unbearably boring before." He then moved on to look at the card that had been included in the chocolate frog package. "Ugh, Merlin  _again_. Molly, let me know who you get. It might be one I don't have." At first, the girl was bewildered by this, but after successfully capturing and eating her own chocolate frog, she looked at the card and figured out that these had famous witches and wizards on them.

"I've got Ulric the Oddball."

"I'll swap you." They traded cards and Molly examined Merlin, who looked just as she had imagined him to from the Arthurian Legends she'd read.

"Oh my goodness! I think Merlin just winked at me!"

"Pictures are another thing that don't move in the Muggle world, I see. Really, how  _did_  you survive this long without dying of boredom?" Before Molly could answer that, the door opened and a blond boy stuck his head in.

"Excuse me, but my sister and her friends are being complete tossers and I want to get a way from them. Mike Stamford said this compartment wasn't full. Is it alright if I sit with you?" he asked and Molly was inclined to tell him yes right away, but she wasn't sure how Sherlock would feel about that, so she waited for his response. There was a long moment in which Sherlock seemed to be evaluating the boy before he answered.

"You may sit with us."

"Thanks," the blond said, smiling and taking a seat next to Molly, "I'm John Watson, by the way."

"Hi, John. I'm Molly Hooper and this is Sherlock Holmes."

"Nice to meet you."

"Same here. Would you like a chocolate frog?" Molly offered John one of the pentagonal packages and he accepted it gratefully. "Sherlock, what exactly are these?" She held up a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans.

"Those are assorted jelly beans of every possible flavor under the sun. I've been cataloguing the number of different flavors I've come across. If you try some, let me know what you get so that I can add them to the list." He replied before taking a bite of a pumpkin pasty.

"Oh! I've got Godric Gryffindor on my chocolate frog card. Harry'll be so mad. She's been after his card for ages." John piped up with a satisfied grin. Molly giggled and examined a green jelly bean, debating with herself as to whether or not she should try it. In the end, she bit off half of it. It only took her a moment to be coughing and panting from the spiciness of the bean.

"Ah, you seem to have stumbled upon a wasabi bean. Bad luck, that. The green ones are always interesting. They have so many possibilities." Sherlock commented casually, taking up a white bean and sniffing it before handing it to Molly. "I think this one's some kind of dairy flavor. It'll help with the heat." Sure enough, he was right and Molly calmed down significantly after eating the white bean. The atmosphere in the compartment continued to be friendly, though it had begun to rain rather heavily outside. Both Sherlock and Molly grew rather fond of John in their time on the train. He seemed to be a funny, compassionate boy and he was the second person Sherlock had met in the short span of a week and a half who actually liked him. Molly felt similarly and John was just glad to have found two people who weren't utter prats.

Shortly before arriving at Hogsmeade Station, they changed into their uniforms and Sherlock placed Basil back in his pocket. They were told to leave their luggage on the train and they congregated with the other first years around a tall, broad man who introduced himself as Ogg. He led the throng of eleven year olds to the edge of the Black Lake, where a number of boats were tied. Sherlock, John, and Molly climbed into one together and the boats began to float across the lake all on their own. Only Sherlock wasn't dazzled.

"This is a bit overly theatrical," he said flatly, but the other two weren't really paying him much mind. They were too busy looking at the lights of Hogwarts Castle ahead. Before long, they had been led by Ogg to a pair of enormous doors inside the castle and left there with the instruction to wait quietly for Professor McGonagall. "Do they really think it wise to leave a bunch of eleven year olds alone for any length of time?" Sherlock grumbled as he watched a boy put gum on the inside of a girl's hood.

"You should have more faith in people." John told him sternly and he raised his eyebrows.

"Clearly you aren't paying attention. People are vile." Before John could reply to this, a thin witch who wore her hair in a tight bun appeared at the top of the staircase.

"Good evening. I am Professor McGonagall. Behind these doors is the Great Hall, where you will each be sorted into one of the four houses: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. While you are here, your house will be your family. Your successes will be shared, as will your failures. The house which enjoys the most success will, at the end of the year, be awarded the House Cup. Now, we are ready for you to join us for the ceremony." The doors opened to reveal a grand hall. There were four long tables lined up perpendicular to the doors and one at the head of them all where the headmaster and teachers sat. The first years filed in and the other students peered around at them. Molly suddenly felt very anxious.

"You see that old hat on that stool in front of the headmaster's seat? That's the Sorting Hat. Your name gets called and you put it on and it says what house you aught to be in. Apparently it sings a song at the start of every year. At least, that's what my sister told me." John whispered to Molly and she gave him a nervous smile in return. Sure enough, a rip appeared in the hat like a mouth and it began to sing.

" _I may be old and ratty,_

_But I'm a smart hat, you'll see,_

_The founders four enchanted me,_

_To tell where you aught to be._

_For those of bravery and daring,_

_There is the house of Gryffindor,_

_He who thought that magic learning,_

_Was for those courageous at core._

_Or perhaps you'd like to be,_

_Welcomed into Hufflepuff,_

_Where loyalty and kindness are key,_

_And never mind the other stuff._

_It might be you find your friends,_

_In the knowledge of scroll and tome,_

_Then in Ravenclaw your search ends,_

_For there you'll find your true home._

_If power is what you really desire,_

_And use your wit and charm to win,_

_A chance for a position much higher,_

_You might find you belong in Slytherin."_

The hall erupted in applause when the Sorting Hat finished singing. A few people complained that this year's song had been rather short, but then the room fell quiet again.

"Now, I will call you up one at a time and place the hat on your head. The hat will then tell us which house is to be yours." Professor McGonagall announced as she unrolled a scroll. "Adler, Irene." A pretty, dark haired girl came and sat on the stool for the hat to be placed on her head. A moment later, it shouted its decision.

"Slytherin!" The girl smirked and the Slytherin table cheered. It didn't take long for Professor McGonagall to get through the rest of the A's and the B-G's before coming to the H's, which made Molly nervous again. What if the hat shouted that she was an imposter who didn't really belong here? What if she woke up to find that this was all a dream and she was really lying in her bunk back at the girls' home?

"Holmes, Sherlock." The mention of his name seemed to catch the attention of some of the older students, particularly among the Ravenclaws. They had probably known his brother. Molly gave him an encouraging thumbs up as he went to sit on the stool.

"Ah, another Holmes. I know just where you should go." The hat murmured in his ear and he gritted his teeth.

"If you put me in the same house as my father, I'll rip you to shreds. You know where I truly belong, you just don't want to put me there because you like tradition." Sherlock shot back.

"Like your brother, then, are you? And with even more conviction. You might do well in Slytherin...but no. You are very much a Ravenclaw." The hat announced this and the Ravenclaw table gave an unusually enthusiastic response. When Sherlock hopped off the seat, he gave a self-satisfied grin and proceeded to the Ravenclaw table.

"Hooper, Molly." That was it. Her name had finally been called and her knees wobbled as she approached the stool. She sat down and the hat was placed on her head.

"Interesting." The hat began. "Where to put you...you've a fair bit of courage in you and a strong thirst for knowledge, but with a heart so full of kindness, I think the best place for you is Hufflepuff." The hat was lifted from her head and all she could hear was people cheering for her and welcoming her to their ranks as she deftly walked to their table with a huge grin on her face. She had made it. She finally belonged and it was  _real_.

Molly watched the rest of the sorting, still with that bright smile fixed on her features. There was an interesting sequence of names about halfway through: Moran, Sebastian (Gryffindor), Moriarty, James (Slytherin), and Morstan, Mary (Ravenclaw). Second to last came John, who took all of about five seconds to be sorted into Gryffindor. He was then followed by Wilkes, Sebastian, who went to Slytherin. Molly was a little disappointed that neither of her friends were in the same house as her, but she didn't let it dampen her mood. The headmaster stood up at the end of the sorting ceremony, quieting everyone down again.

"Welcome all to another year at Hogwarts. To those first years who do not know me, I am Albus Dumbledore, your headmaster. I would like to begin by introducing you to our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Hope." He paused to allow the students to clap for the funny looking, bespectacled man he gestured to at the teachers' table. "He has graciously agreed to try his hand at the position. Mr. Pringle, our caretaker, would like me to remind you that the forest is out of bounds to all students and that a fresh list of banned objects has been posted. Now, I'm sure you're all tired and hungry, so I'll let you tuck in." With these last words, copious amounts of food appeared on the tables and Molly was overwhelmed by seeing so many things to eat in one place. She didn't know where to begin, so she just got herself a little bit of everything. A girl sitting next to her introduced herself as Meena and they became fast friends. It wasn't too long before dessert appeared and Meena had to help her decide what to eat. Just as she was reaching for a piece of cake, a silvery, translucent little man popped up through the pudding. Molly's breath hitched in her throat and a few other first years screamed.

"Hello! I'm the Hufflepuff House Ghost. It's a pleasure to see new faces at this table." He greeted cheerily, a wide grin on his face.

"Oh my God, oh my God! Ghosts are  _real_." Molly gasped and Meena frowned.

"Well, of course they- oh! You must be a Muggleborn. That's perfectly understandable, then. Don't worry, the ghosts at Hogwarts are friendly. Especially the Fat Friar there. The only one you've got to watch out for is Peeves. He's a poltergeist." Meena explained and Molly relaxed a little. She looked around at the Ravenclaw table, searching for Sherlock. She hoped he wasn't dying of boredom. As it turned out, he was talking to another, older boy who appeared to be amused by whatever Sherlock was saying. It made Molly smile to know he was doing fine. "Who are you looking at? Ah, isn't that Sherlock Holmes? His brother, Mycroft, was Head Boy last year, you know. I wonder if they're anything alike."

"No, they're very different." Molly responded with a laugh and Meena raised her eyebrows.

"You know them?"

"Yeah, they helped me get everything sorted for school, since I'm, er, Muggleborn. Sherlock's brilliant, but he's not really one for convention and he's a bit too honest. He bought me sweets on the train, though, so I guess he sometimes tries to make up for it."

"Sounds like you fancy him." Meena teased.

"What? No!" Molly shot back and they both started to laugh. She finished her piece of cake and not much later, the Hufflepuffs were guided by prefects down to the basement. They came to a corridor that had a stack of large barrels at the end.

"First years, the way to gain access to the common room is to tap this barrel in the rhythm of 'Helga Hufflepuff'. Like so." The prefect demonstrated by tapping the barrel two from the bottom, middle of the second row. This had the effect of causing the barrels to shift until a tunnel was revealed. The Hufflepuffs filed in and on the other side, there was a cozy, low ceilinged room decorated in the house colors of yellow and black. A happy fire crackled in the hearth and various potted plants were scattered around the place. Molly let out a happy sigh, having finally found her true home.


	3. A Rough Start

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter contains implied and more than implied bullying.

The last thing Molly Hooper needed at the moment was to hear Sherlock grumble about the weight of textbooks as they ran down to the dungeons, heading for Potions. They were late because Basil had smelled a dropped bit of food and had leapt out of Sherlock's pocket to go after it. They spent ten minutes chasing down Basil before finally catching him and continuing on their way to the dungeons. They arrived in Potions class just as Professor Slughorn was starting and they quietly took the two open spots at the back.

"In this class, you will be learning the art of potion making. It's not something you should take lightly. Done right, a potion can do many good things. It can heal, fortify, medicate, and save those an inch from death. Done wrong or with wrong intentions, a potion can cause all sorts of harm from singed hair to instant death." Slughorn began as his eyes scanned the class of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw first years. He saw that Molly and Sherlock had arrived and realizing who they must be, ticked them off as present on his list. "Now, this year, you'll be learning the basic concepts of potion making and how to concoct a few simple things. I have some them over here." He gestured to a table that had three cauldrons simmering away set upon it. "Come. Gather round." Everyone got up to come closer to the table, though Sherlock was rather slow about it due to boredom. "Can anybody tell me what these are?" Molly and a couple of Ravenclaw girls raised their hands. Slughorn chose Molly.

"The first two are a Cure for Boils and Forgetfulness Potion, but um, I'm not sure about the last one. I don't think it's in our textbook." This earned her a warm smile from the professor.

"Excellent! Quite right, the last one is not in your textbook. It's the Draught of Living Death, which you will be learning about, but not making. Well spotted, Ms. Hooper. Five points to Hufflepuff." At this, Molly had to stop herself from letting out a squeak of excitement. Not only had she gotten everything right, she'd earned praise and points for her house. Sherlock rolled his eyes at her, but she seemed to have attracted the attention of another Ravenclaw boy who was gazing at her as if she was a particularly beautiful unicorn. He blushed when she made eye contact with him and he immediately hid himself behind a tall Hufflepuff boy, though she could still see the crown of his wavy blond mop over the other boy's shoulder. For the rest of the class, the blond Ravenclaw boy stole glances at her and she found herself feeling flustered about it.

After class, when Molly was walking with Sherlock, he seemed to notice her state and sighed in annoyance.

"That boy who was staring at you all through class, his name's Gilderoy Lockhart and he is a complete blithering idiot. I don't understand how he was sorted into Ravenclaw. In any case, I wouldn't recommend developing any sort of sickly sweet affections for him." He told her flatly, earning him a deep scowl from Molly.

"That's presumptuous and unfair, Sherlock." She shot back. The boy only raised an eyebrow at her in reply. As they crossed the Entrance Hall, they spotted John Watson running down the stairs toward them.

"Oi! Sherlock! Molly!" he called as he caught sight of them. "Wait until you have Defense Against the Dark Arts. Professor Hope is barking mad and creepy to boot. How were your classes?" The Gryffindor fell into step with them as they entered the Great Hall and Molly chattered about Professor McGonagall turning herself into a cat and back and earning points from Professor Slughorn. Sherlock maintained an annoyed silence until the three of them went to their separate house tables to eat lunch.

"Hello, Molly. How was you're morning with Sherlock?" Meena greeted, wiggling her eyebrows as she said Sherlock's name.

"Well, he was irritable the whole time and I had to help him chase after his mouse, Basil, between Transfiguration and Potions." Molly admitted with a resigned sigh. "I'll be with him again this afternoon for Flying class. I'm really excited for that. I can't believe I'm going to learn how to fly." That elation showed quite clearly on the young girl's features. Meena laughed at her bobbing in her seat.

"The fact that Muggleborns get so excited about normal everyday stuff will never stop making me smile. Flying's easy, you've just got to not over think it." Meena told Molly with a dismissive wave of her hand. It did nothing to calm Molly's overexcitement. All through Charms, John couldn't help but notice that his friend was quivering with anticipation. When the class ended, her goodbye to John was rather brief before she practically skipped to the training grounds. Madam Hooch had lain two rows of brooms facing each other on the ground and instructed the Hufflepuff first years to take one side while the Ravenclaws took the other. Across from Molly, Sherlock looked incredibly bored. She seemed to recall him saying something about already having learned how to fly after getting his hands on his elder brother's broom when he was nine.

"Right, now position yourselves on the left side of your broomstick, hold out your hand, and very confidently say 'Up!'" Madam Hooch said and the first years promptly trying to command the brooms into flying up into their hands.

"Up." Sherlock ordered casually, a lazy expression on his face as if he was making it clear that he was superior and was shaming the broom into obeying him. It jumped into his hand instantly.

"Very good, Holmes." Madam Hooch praised, though Sherlock didn't seem to find his achievement all that commendable. Feeling the need to match him in order to better earn his respect, Molly spoke to her broom as commandingly as she could muster.

"Up." To her surprise, the broom leapt into her grasp. This succeeded in getting Sherlock's attention as he raised his dark eyebrows at her. Clearly he was just as surprised as she was.

"Wonderful, Hooper." Molly grinned at Madam Hooch's compliment and watched as she went over to Gilderoy, who had been smacked in the face by his own broom, and the girl's expression became a sympathetic one.

"See, Molly? He's not on your level." Sherlock commented flatly. Molly scowled deeply at him for this.

"Don't say things like that, Sherlock." She scolded. Before Sherlock could respond, Madam Hooch spoke again to the entire class.

"Right. Now that most of you have succeeded in summoning your broomsticks," She paused to prompt those who had been less successful to go ahead and pick up their brooms, "mount them and on the count of three, I want you all to lightly push off from the ground. The goal is to hover for at least five minutes. Is that clear?" The class gave murmurs of affirmation. "Three...two...one..." They all pushed off from the ground. Sherlock did it like it was the most natural and ordinary thing in the world and began hovering a few feet in the air. It took Molly a couple of tries before she was able to follow suit. One Ravenclaw girl had evidently been trying a little too hard because she went shooting off across the training ground, screaming all the way. "Oh, dear..." Madam Hooch sighed before pursuing the poor girl. Fortunately, her only injury was a sprained ankle, but she had to sit out for the rest of the class period. Madam Hooch had wanted to take her to see Madam Pomfrey, but the girl had insisted she stay to observe the rest of the lesson. This seemed to earn her the respect of her fellow Ravenclaws, even Sherlock to some small degree.

By the time the class ended and Molly was back on her feet, her body was still humming with excitement of flying. After dinner that evening, she met up with John in the library and gushed to him about it. He would be having his first flying lesson the following morning and he was growing almost as excited as she had been.

"Have you read Quidditch Through the Ages?" the Gryffindor boy asked as he pulled out his copy of the book. "I really want to try out for a Chaser position on my house's team next year."

"Yeah, I read it. Quidditch seems like fun, but I don't know if I'd be good at any of the positions." Molly admitted with a sad smile. She also didn't have money with which to buy herself a broomstick and she didn't think Mycroft would be willing to spring for one on her behalf. John started on what sort of broom he'd like while Molly wondered if Sherlock was at all interested in Quidditch. He would probably be quite good at it, given how natural flight seemed to him. As if Molly's thoughts were some sort of summoning charm, the boy himself appeared from behind a bookshelf, a curious expression on his face. She was about to call to him, but he went back to whatever he had been doing before his attention had been drawn to them.

Over the course of a few weeks, it became clear that Sherlock was not particularly interested in friendship or indeed any kind of interaction with others. Molly only ever saw him outside of class in the library, reading book after book. For the most part, Molly and John let him be, though they did manage to convince him to attend the first Quidditch match of the year, Gryffindor vs. Slytherin, which had been set very early due to some training both teams had been doing before the start of term. Molly was surprised to see that the game was actually holding Sherlock's attention, although the only thing he seemed interested in was the location of the Snitch. If Molly asked where it was, he always knew. He even knew who was going to catch the Snitch before it even happened. When the commentator announced that Slytherin had won the match a minute later, Molly gaped.

"How did you know? Those Seekers were shoulder to shoulder."

"Surely it was obvious." Sherlock replied simply before disappearing in the crowd of people leaving the stands. Molly was left to comfort John over his house's loss.

As Halloween fast approached, Molly and John began to notice that Sherlock was growing colder and more distant with them. John's attitude on the subject was that since the Ravenclaw boy didn't appear to be interested in spending time with them, they shouldn't force their presence on him. Molly didn't think that was quite what was going on. Sherlock still made a point to sit with her in class. If he didn't like her, wouldn't he avoid her? Then there was the fact that she'd only seen him at a few meals in recent weeks. He clearly hadn't been eating. Meena told her not to worry as Sherlock was probably just forgetting to eat because he was so absorbed in his books.

On Halloween, it became clear that both John and Meena had been wrong. That afternoon, Sherlock walked with Molly to their Defense Against the Dark Arts class. He was telling her about how Basil was too quick for any of the cats living in Ravenclaw Tower when a much older Ravenclaw boy very purposefully bumped into Sherlock, nearly knocking the smaller boy off his feet and causing him to drop his books.

"Watch where you're going, you little freak," the older student sneered as he passed. Molly immediately bent down to help Sherlock pick up his things.

"I can do it myself." He told her sharply. "I don't need your help." He snatched his copy of  _A History of Magic_  from her hands and quickly got to his feet to briskly walk away. Molly followed after him silently, knowing better than to question him about what had just happened.

In class, Molly took her usual seat next to Sherlock and decided to try to get his mind off of things while they waited for Professor Hope to appear.

"Will you be at the Halloween Feast tonight?" she asked with a smile.

"Probably not." Molly's smile faltered.

"Why not? There'll be lots of nice things to eat. You're looking really thin, so-"

"You're not my mother." Sherlock snapped, not even looking at the girl beside him.

"No, I'm not, but I am worried about you."

"Worried? Why would you be worried about  _me_?" He was looking at her now, meeting her gaze with a very perplexed expression.

"Just promise me that you'll be there tonight, okay? You can even come sit at the Hufflepuff table with me if you like. No one will bother you, I swear." Molly pleaded and Sherlock stared at her blankly for a long moment before responding.

"Very well. I promise." At this, Molly's bright smile returned and they both diverted their attention to Professor Hope, who had just entered the room. John had been right about the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher being an odd fellow. He hobbled about, adjusting his glasses occasionally. He looked at and spoke to people as if he knew things about them that he oughtn't to, as if he knew everyone's worst secrets. His manner had a way of making everyone alert and wary around him. Sherlock said that he was just a sad old widower who wasn't really very frightening.

"Good afternoon, boys and girls. Today, you will be learning the Verdimillious Charm. Can anyone tell me what the Verdimillious Charm does?" Hope began and only Molly raised her hand. "Ms. Hooper?"

"It conjures green sparks, sir."

"Very good. Five points to Hufflepuff for doing the reading. Can anyone  _besides Ms. Hooper_  list three practical uses for the Verdimillious Charm?" There was long pause in which no one raised there hand, but then Sherlock spoke up.

"'The Verdimillious Charm is noted to have three main uses. Firstly, to create a signal. Secondly, as a source of light. Thirdly and most importantly, to reveal things hidden by Dark magic.' That is word for word from the text. Honestly, are Molly and I the only people who bother to read anything or are you truly all wasting your time pointlessly chatting with your friends?" All of his fellow students glared at him (with the exception of Molly, who simply sat there looking very uncomfortable), but Professor Hope smiled.

"Ten points to Ravenclaw." This received a negative response from a number of Sherlock's classmates, including fellow Ravenclaws. This puzzled Molly for a minute until she realized that they didn't like how Sherlock had been given points for being insulting. He didn't talk to anyone for the rest of the class and hurried out the moment they were dismissed before Molly could even say anything to him. Her concern for him grew and when evening came and she found herself sitting in the Great Hall, enjoying the feast, it was hard for her to be entertained by the performing choir. Sherlock was nowhere in sight and he'd promised to be there. She began to worry that something had happened to him.

"He's probably just sulking somewhere, thinking you're stupid for trying to get him to come to the feast." Meena told her after noticing how bothered her friend was. Molly fervently shook her head.

"No, Sherlock wouldn't do that. He may be rude and awkward sometimes, but he's honest. He said he'd be here, so he should be here. When he promised John that he'd come to Quidditch, he came. This shouldn't be any different." The brunette insisted and Meena sighed at her.

"Molly, nobody knows what goes on in that boy's head. He's not normal. Don't expect an abnormal person to be so concrete."

"Something is wrong. I'm sure of it. I'm going to look for him. Excuse me." With that, Molly got up. Ignoring Meena's calls for her to come back, she went over to the Gryffindor table to explain the situation to John, who didn't hesitate to come with her.

"Where do you think Sherlock might be?" John asked as they walked through the dark corridors of Hogwarts.

"I don't know. I think we should start with the library. At the very least, Madam Pince can tell us about when she saw Sherlock last." They caught Madam Pince just as she was closing the library to go to the feast.

"I haven't seen Mr. Holmes at all today. Why do you ask?" The woman said in reply to their inquiry about Sherlock. Molly and John exchanged anxious looks.

"We need to find him. We're afraid something might have happened to him." John explained.

"Oh dear! Shall I inform the headmaster of the situation?"

"Yes, I think you should. Thank you, Madam Pince."

Their search continued and they grew more worried with each of Sherlock's usual haunts that they ticked off their list.

"He has to be around somewhere. He can't have just disappeared...can he?" Molly spoke up as the pair walked up the stairs from the dungeons.

"I don-" John was interrupted by being hit in the head with a stick of chalk. "Ah!"

"Silly firsties looking in all the wrong places!" an obnoxious voice called and the pair turned to see a little man in horribly bright, tacky clothing float up to them.

"Oh, Peeves! Hello!" Molly gasped. She'd encountered the poltergeist a few times before. She didn't hate him like so many other people did, even after he'd literally pulled her pigtails the one time. She understood that his mischief was nothing personal most of the time and so she accepted him for what he was. She was just as kind and respectful to him as she was to anyone else. "You say we're looking in the wrong places. Does that mean you know where he is?" Peeves let out a loud cackle and did a loop in the air before answering.

"Sherlywhirly couldn't make it to the party. He's had a hang up with the other brainies and now he's all wet!" the poltergeist cried, cackling again and zooming off through the wall.

"I think Peeves means Sherlock's outside in the rain," John said, his eyes wide. Molly didn't even respond. She dashed off as quickly as she could with the blond boy behind her. They went out of the castle, into the rain. After a few minutes of searching and getting soaked to the bone, John heard a scream and came running to Molly, who had found an unconscious Sherlock hanging by the hood of his robes from a torch holder. Someone had written FREAK on his forehead in black ink that was beginning to leech into the little streams of water running down his face. "Oh God!" John exclaimed, wiping water out of his eyes. "Molly, help me get him down." Together, they freed Sherlock from the torch holder and carried him inside to the Entrance Hall. "I'll get help. Stay here." John disappeared to the Great Hall and soon returned with Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, Madam Pomfrey, and Professor Flitwick behind him as well as a number of curious students. The boy and the four staff members rushed over to Molly and Sherlock.

"Poppy, please take these three to the hospital wing," the headmaster said calmly. "I will stay at the feast and ensure this doesn't cause a commotion." McGonagall helped Madam Pomfrey carry Sherlock, deflecting John and Molly's requests to do it themselves. They were each given a bed in the hospital wing and while Madam Pomfrey cleaned the ink off of Sherlock's face, Molly and John were given very thick, large towels to wrap around themselves. McGonagall and Flitwick waited a little while before questioning the two children, giving them time to calm down and dry off.

"Mr. Watson, would you kindly explain what happened?" the Transfiguration instructor asked softly.

"Well, I was just enjoying the feast when Molly came over and asked me to help her find Sherlock because he wasn't there. We looked all over the castle, but we couldn't find him anywhere. We were coming up from the dungeons when Peeves more or less told us that Sherlock was outside, so we went out and found him hung up by his hood."

"Did Peeves say anything else?"

"Yeah, he said Sherlock 'had a hang up with the other brainies'. What do you think that means?"

"It means fellow Ravenclaws did this to Mr. Holmes." Professor Flitwick replied gravely. "We won't know who until he wakes up." As if on cue, Madam Pomfrey announced that Sherlock had opened his eyes.

"Where am I?" he groaned, trying to sit up. The nurse eased him back into a lying position.

"Relax. You're in the hospital wing, dear. Can you remember what happened to you?" Sherlock went silent with thought for a minute, but then he became panicked.

"I can't...I can't remember! Why am I here?! What happened!? I can't remember! Why can't I remember!?" Sherlock tried to spring out of the bed, but his movements were uncoordinated and he was unsuccessful due to Madam Pomfrey grabbing his flailing arms and holding him still.

"You are the unfortunate victim of a particularly vicious bullying incident." Dumbledore spoke, announcing his presence. "You were found hanging unconscious in the rain with 'FREAK' written on your forehead. The students who did this to you clearly attempted to cover their tracks by modifying your memory." For the first time, Molly and John saw Sherlock look utterly out of sorts. He was shaking, his eyes wide with trauma. All traces of the usually calm and confident boy they knew were temporarily gone. "The matter will be promptly investigated and when the perpetrators are caught, they will be punished accordingly, but we won't trouble you with anymore questions tonight. All three of you are excused from tomorrow morning's classes. Try to get some rest." Dumbledore wished them goodnight and he and the other two professors left the hospital wing. While Madam Pomfrey disappeared to fetch pumpkin juice for her patients, John and Molly moved over to Sherlock's bed and enveloped him in their arms. Initially, he stiffened at their touch, he slowly relaxed as it dawned on him for the first time that these two were his friends, truly and properly, and that they genuinely  _cared_  about him.

"Thank you." he muttered to them, putting his trembling arms around both John and Molly.


	4. Cold Winds Bring Cold Deeds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter contains bullying.

It didn't take very long at all for the news of what had happened to spread through the school. By the following afternoon, everyone knew that Sherlock Holmes was the victim who was being whispered about. Some people found the whole thing rather amusing, while others were horrified by it.

As soon as they were all done with classes, the three first years went out to sit by the lake and avoid the stares of their peers. Molly showed up with food, which they divided amongst each other. They talked quietly and ate while they watched the waves on the lake.

"How are you feeling, Sherlock?" Molly asked. The dark haired boy nibbled at the end of a dinner roll before answering.

"Fine. I'm starting to piece things together a little, not from memory but from what evidence I can see. I have an idea of who may have attacked me."

"Who?"

"Their names would be meaningless to you. They're much older students. Some boys who happen to be unacquainted with my brother."

"Have you told Professor Flitwick?" John put in after consuming a leg of chicken rather quickly. Sherlock shook his head.

"No, but I will speak with him tomorrow about it." The other two took this as their cue to drop the subject and pick up talk of something else.

"Hufflepuff vs. Ravenclaw on Saturday. Looks like you'll have to choose a side, John."

"I honestly don't care who wins the Cup as long as it's not Slytherin." the Gryffindor replied with a laugh. "I heard that the Ravenclaw team's captain is a good Keeper."

"Victor Trevor? Yes, he is rather good."

"You know him?"

"Victor is one of the few people around here worth talking to. He knows my brother. Apparently Mycroft asked him to look out for me." Sherlock explained casually. Despite his manner, the other two knew such words were a high compliment.

"Was he that boy I saw you talking to at the Welcoming Feast?" Molly put in after making a realization.

"Very observant of you, Molly," Sherlock said with a small smile and the girl blushed. It was nice to see him in such a positive mood given how shaken up he'd been the previous night. Their evening went on quite companionably and Molly and John discovered that Sherlock could be very funny when he was in the mood. When it was time for them to head back inside, though, he grew serious. "Thank you both."

"For what?" John asked, puzzled. Sherlock adjusted his scarf and looked away awkwardly.

"For being...different." Then they understood and from the looks on their faces, Sherlock knew it. It didn't need be said. They each cracked a grin and walked back to the castle together.

Molly headed for the basement while the boys went up the stairs toward their respective towers. She felt content, like everything had been resolved. Unfortunately, this period of complete happiness didn't last long. Little did she know that something was brewing that would shape the rest of their year and she was going first learn of it very soon.

The next morning at breakfast, Molly was eating a bit of toast and watching as owls soared in to deliver mail to other people. She'd gotten used to owls by now and just liked to look at them. She never expected one to drop a sealed envelope on her plate. For a moment, she simply stared at the thing, shocked. The seal was blue wax stamped with what looked like a family crest. She swore she'd seen it somewhere before. Slowly, she picked it up and examined it, turning it over to find that her name was written on it with dark blue ink in a very neat, elegant hand.

"Well, go on, open it, Molly." Meena urged, looking a bit excited by the fact that someone wealthy had obviously sent the letter.

"W-Who would write to m-me?" Molly carefully broke the seal and opened the envelope. Inside was a neatly folded leaf of parchment which read:

_Dear Ms. Hooper,_

_I hope you have adjusted well to life at Hogwarts and that you are enjoying your classes. It can be difficult for Muggleborns sometimes, but I have faith that you are very capable of adapting._

_I would ask how my brother has been doing, but given the letter I recently received from Dumbledore, I can already see that he has been having a very difficult time. Please understand that the very idea that someone touched his mind will be horrifying to him. Anything you can do to brighten Sherlock's life would be much appreciated as there is little I can do for him myself._

_On a lighter note, congratulations on your sorting into Hufflepuff. I initially expected that you would be a Ravenclaw, but from what I've heard about you, perhaps it is not so bad that I was wrong. Dumbledore has noted your actions on Halloween to be quite admirable and I'm inclined to agree._

_Sincerely,_

_Mycroft Holmes_

_P.S.- If you wish to send a reply, simply give your letter to Diogenes. He will know where to find me._

After she finished reading, Molly looked up at the large horned owl that had perched itself on the edge of the table. Its posture was rather proud and she realized that this had to be Mycroft's owl, who he had apparently named Diogenes.

"That's a really lovely owl." Meena commented. "Who sent it?"

"Sherlock's brother." Molly replied and the other girl's jaw dropped.

"You are really lucky to be sponsored by such a well off wizarding family."

"Um, I want to write Mycroft a letter back and he says to give any reply to Diogenes here, but I don't want to-"

"Oh, he'll go to the Owlery while he waits for you to give him your letter, don't worry." Meena assured the first year girl with a smile.

"Oh, I see. Thanks." Molly folded up the letter and stowed it in her pocket before finishing her breakfast and getting up to leave the hall. Sherlock and John caught up with her and the former eyed her suspiciously. "What it is, Sherlock?"

"Mycroft's written you a letter."

"Yes...how did you know?"

"I saw Diogenes fly over to you and there is a slight bulge in your robe pocket. What did he say?" The boy spoke rapidly, blue gaze locked firmly on Molly, who scowled.

"That's hardly your business, is it?" The look Sherlock gave her made her sigh and roll her eyes before handing him the letter. She wished she understood why the brothers had such an aversion to direct contact with one another.

"Why's Sherlock's brother writing you, Molly, if you don't mind me asking?" John piped up with a frown. He didn't know much about the other Holmes brother besides the fact that Sherlock didn't get on too well with him.

"Don't be fooled. It may seem like Mycroft's showing kindness and concern, but he's manipulating you, Molly." Sherlock answered with a sniff before Molly even opened her mouth. He handed her her letter back and she took it while still scowling.

"Woah, that's a bit harsh. Why would he do that?" John questioned as they went up a moving staircase.

"Believe me, it's not. My brother's fresh out of Hogwarts and he's already a Ministerial Aid. What kind of person do you think it takes to achieve that?"

"A Slytherin?"

"Ha, I'd love to see his face if he heard you say that. No, he's not after power, he just likes  _knowing_  things, particularly about people and what they're up to, and he's very good at finding them out."

"Wait, so he wants information from Molly?"

"Oh good, you follow."

"Not really."

"Isn't it obvious? He wants her to be one of his little spies, reporting to him about everything I do." Sherlock drawled, an expression of mild distaste on his features. "It won't be long before you get a letter from him as well, John."

"Oh." the blond boy breathed, his eyebrows raised. The trio turned a corner and nearly tripped over a Ravenclaw girl with a pink flower in her hair who was lying facedown on the floor, unconscious. Molly gasped loudly and covered her mouth with her hand. John immediately knelt down to see if the girl was still alive. "She's breathing, but only just. Come on, help me carry her." The three of them lifted the girl and hurried with her as quickly as they could to the hospital wing.

"Madam Pomfrey, we've got someone in dire need of a Bezoar!" Sherlock called, which succeeded in very quickly summoning the Healer with a Bezoar in her hand. The three students hastily lay the unconscious girl on one of the beds and Madam Pomfrey administered the Bezoar. Within moments, the poisoned girl was awake and emptying her stomach into a pail. "We're lucky to have found her when we did. A few more moments and she'd have been dead."

"Indeed and Professor Slughorn will be very proud to know that you remembered the Bezoar." Madam Pomfrey replied as she rubbed the sick girl's back. "I suggest all three of you go straight to the Headmaster's office and inform him of what's happened. I'll take care of Ms. Wilson here." Without further ado, the three hurried to the third floor to find the gargoyle that marked the entrance of Dumbledore's office.

"Oh dear, can either of you remember the password? I've forgotten already." Molly worried as they stopped in front of the sculpted figure. She hadn't thought they'd need to know it again in a hurry, so she hadn't put any effort into remembering it.

"It's Choco-Loco," Sherlock said and the gargoyle moved, allowing them entry. Once inside the headmaster's office, they waited patiently for the man to appear. All the while, they examined the room and its many curious objects. They hadn't really gotten the chance the last time they had been here only a few days ago. Sherlock seemed particularly interested in the books on the shelves while John and Molly became mesmerized by the beautiful bird that was peering at them from its perch.

"It's a Phoenix." John gasped in awe. "The core of my wand is a Phoenix feather. I wonder if it knows." The scarlet bird chirped at the blond boy and he stared in shock. Had it just given him an affirmative?

"I didn't expect to see you three here again so soon." The eleven year olds' attention was immediately commanded by the man who had entered the room.

"Professor!" Molly squeaked as she spun around to face the headmaster.

"Hello, Ms. Hooper. What is it you and your friends have come to see me about? You haven't gotten yourselves into trouble, have you?" Dumbledore spoke calmly and it had the effect of putting the students at ease.

"Oh, no, Headmaster, we aren't in trouble. We came to tell you that we found a girl lying unconscious in a second floor corridor." The girl explained. "We took her to the hospital wing just in time to stop her from dying."

"We think she was poisoned, sir." Sherlock added.

"This is a very serious matter. Thank you for bringing it to my attention. I shall inform the staff immediately of what has happened." The subjects of the portraits on the walls seemed to have been listening in, because a few of them went rushing out of their pictures, presumably off to spread the word of what had taken place. "For your quick thinking, I award each of your houses 30 points."

"Thank you, sir." John responded, suppressing a grin.

"It is I who must be grateful to you, Mr. Watson. You have saved a young girl's life. Now, I must ask that you three continue about your day and refrain from speaking of this incident to any of your fellow students. I think it best that you not draw further attention to yourselves."

"We understand."

"Then I bid you good day." Dumbledore finalized with a small smile. The students turned to the door to leave, but paused when the headmaster called to John. "His name is Fawkes, by the way." The Gryffindor frowned in bewilderment. "The Phoenix." Dumbledore clarified and John beamed. Saying their goodbyes to both the headmaster and the bird, the three left the office.

"Come on. Let's head out to the Quidditch Pitch." John suggested and taking his friends' lack of objections as agreement, led the way.

All through the game, they heard whispers from people wondering where Dumbledore and a few of the other teachers were. A brunette girl asked Sherlock if he'd seen Jennifer Wilson. Despite the headmaster''s request, he was honest and told her that Jennifer was in the hospital wing.

Immediately after Hufflepuff won the match, Sherlock dragged his friends back to the castle. Or rather, he ran and they tried to keep up (he was rather fast for such a small fellow). They followed him to the second floor where they'd found Jennifer Wilson that morning.

"Sherlock, what are we doing here?" John inquired as he tried to catch his breath.

"Don't you want to know how and why Jennifer was poisoned?"

"Well, yeah, but that doesn't mean it's our business."

"Dumbledore didn't say we couldn't investigate. He just told us not to say we're involved." The dark haired boy then proceeded to kneel down so that he could examine the floor more closely.

"That's not quite what I meant." John replied with a frown. Seeing that Sherlock would not be swayed from this path, the Gryffindor decided to indulge him. "So what are we looking for anyway?"

"Anything that may have been left behind by Jennifer. Her body was lying in this direction, so obviously she was coming from the direction of the third floor when she collapsed. She doesn't appear to have left anything, so let's see if we can retrace her steps." Sherlock spoke and moved quickly, almost making it difficult for the other two to keep up with him. He sprang up and dashed off in the direction of the stairs to the third floor. "Some people might say that she was coming down from Ravenclaw Tower for breakfast, but that can't be that case. She wouldn't have come this way if it were. She was stopping off somewhere."

"Where, though?" Molly asked, bewildered. The short boy's dark eyebrows knitting together and he appeared to be thinking hard for a moment before answering.

"I'm afraid that's something we can't determine without further information. When Jennifer Wilson gets out of the Hospital wing, we'll have to question her." Without another word, Sherlock altered his course to the library. Since the trail had gone cold, he clearly wasn't going to devote much further thought to the matter until he'd spoken to Jennifer. The three of them didn't even mention the poisoning incident to each other again for a long while, though the rest of the school continued to talk about it for weeks. Jennifer Wilson was still terribly ill as the Holidays approached and so none of them had been able to talk to her. Whether the issue was even still floating about in Sherlock's mind, Molly had no idea. Not long after the incident had taken place, something else distracted Molly and her friends. That something was an article in a copy of the Daily Prophet that she observed Sherlock reading one evening.

From across their table in the library, Molly could see that the headline read "Controversy Over Newly Appointed Minister of Magic" and there was a picture of a gangly man with a tired expression on his face. He waved shyly from his picture and it made Molly wonder why anyone would have a problem with such a kind looking man.

"Sherlock, what's that about?" she queried and the top half of the paper flopped down to reveal the Ravenclaw's inquiring look.

"Hm?"

"That man on the front, why do people have a problem with him?"

"Oh, Nobby Leach? He's the first Muggleborn Minister we've had. A lot of idiotic traditionalist Purebloods are whining about it." Sherlock drawled. The matter obviously didn't interest him very much.

"May I borrow your Daily Prophet?" This appeared to elicit conflicted feelings in the boy. For a moment, he simply stared at her blankly as if he was having difficulty deciding how to respond. Eventually, he folded the newspaper and slid it over to Molly, expression neutral.

"I was done with it anyway." He told her flatly. It puzzled Molly as to why Sherlock was behaving so oddly about it. At least, it seemed odd to her. It wasn't until she read the article that she had any inkling why.

The next morning as she exited History of Magic, she took the copy of the Daily Prophet from her bag and sat on a bench by a brazier to read it. The farther she got in the article, the bigger the knot in her stomach seemed to grow. So this was how many people in the magical world felt about people like her? They saw Muggleborns as weak, unworthy, lesser people? Apparently a third of the Wizengamot walked out upon the new Minister's appointment. Molly had a substantial enough knowledge of wizarding government by now to know that this was a huge deal. Before she could learn what Abraxas Malfoy had to say on the subject, the paper was snatched from Molly's hands by a thin, dark haired Slytherin girl. She looked at what Molly had been reading and scoffed.

"A Mudblood playing at being Minister. He should be thrown out." she spat, with particular disgusted emphasis on the word 'Mudblood'.

"I don't see anything wrong with him." Molly stated defiantly and the Slytherin glared. "Please give that back." She held her hand out for the newspaper, but the girl didn't relinquish it. A few other Slytherins came up to see what was going on and Molly guessed that they were this girl's friends.

"She's one of them." one boy hissed.

"Yeah, show her her place, Bellatrix." another goaded. The girl now identified as Bellatrix drew her wand to point it at Molly, who did the same, holding it in a defensive position.

"Give it back and leave me alone." Incredulous at this, Bellatrix fired a jinx at Molly the knocked her onto her hands and knees and caused her to drop her wand, which was kicked down the corridor by one of the girl's friends.

"How dare you speak to me like that! How dare you even hold a wand in your hand, you filthy Mudblood!" Bellatrix kicked Molly over and threw the Daily Prophet at her before leaving with her cackling cronies. For a moment, Molly just lay there, curled up on the floor, fighting the urge to cry from physical and emotional pain. She was spotted a minute later by a trio of slightly older Gryffindor students down the corridor.

"Are you okay?" one of them called and Molly groaned. They rushed to her side and a pair of redheaded twins helped her to her feet.

"Th-Thank you." Molly murmured and a redheaded girl handed her her bag, her wand, and Sherlock's Daily Prophet.

"Don't mention it. What's your name?" the girl replied.

"Molly Hooper."

"Oh! My name's Molly too. Molly Prewett. These are my brothers Gideon and Fabian."

"Nice to meet you."

"Likewise," the boys said in unison.

"Bellatrix Black got you then, didn't she? She's a real piece of work, that one. She bullies Muggleborns at every opportunity, even ones older than her, and she's only a first year. She's a disgrace of a witch if you ask me." The other Molly ranted, brushing dust off the Hufflepuff's robes. "Come on, let's get you to lunch." The three Prewetts then escorted Molly to the Great Hall where she thanked them again and went to join Meena at the Hufflepuff table.

"Are you alright, Molly? You look like you've seen something horrible."

"I'm fine." Molly lied, grabbing a sandwich, though she didn't have hardly any appetite at this point.

That afternoon in Potions when Molly handed Sherlock back his Daily Prophet, their gazes met and she could tell from the look in his eyes that he knew what had happened to her. Of course he did, with his brilliant way of figuring things out. As the lesson went on, she noticed more and more that his usual blunt statements had lost some of their bite. She wondered if it was his way of showing sympathy. That thought made her feel just a little bit better and allowed her to hold off on crying until she was in her dorm that night.


	5. From Nothing to Something

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very sorry this took so long, but life has a nasty habit of getting in the way. I really hope it's worth the wait.

After the incident with Bellatrix Black, Molly Hooper began to frequently find herself being harassed for being Muggleborn. One evening when she was meant to meet with John and Sherlock in the library to study for exams, she showed up with a split lip and a bruised cheek.

"Molly, what happened? You look like you got in a fight!" John gasped as he saw her sit down across from him and Sherlock (who looked up from the book he'd been reading). She didn't meet either of their gazes and took out her Transfiguration textbook.

"It's nothing. I'm fine. I just...fell." Molly responded quietly, but John continued to scowl. "Really, don't worry. I'm fine." She insisted. She didn't want people to worry about her. This was her burden and she didn't want other people to have to bear it with her. They would want her to bring this issue to a teacher, but she didn't want to give her bullies the satisfaction.

"Molly, you need to write to Mycroft." Sherlock suddenly spoke up, putting down his book. The girl's breath hitched in her throat. Was Sherlock telling her to report the abuse to Mycroft? Was he concerned for her?

"Sorry?"

"Tell him I'm staying here for the Holidays and that he better not have laid his hands on my bees." Sherlock replied calmly, as if he didn't know about Molly's problem.

"Oh." She breathed. "Okay. Do you have a spare bit of parchment I can write on?" The dark haired boy wordlessly handed her a leaf of parchment. "Thanks." He turned to John and began quizzing him on History of Magic. Molly took out a bottle of ink and a quill and started her letter to Mycroft.

_Dear Mycroft,_

_How are you? We're all right here. Sherlock wants me to tell you that he's staying at Hogwarts for the Holidays and that you had better not have touched his bees. I'll be staying too for reasons I think you will very much understand._

_How are things at the Ministry of Magic? I read from the Daily Prophet about the new Minister. Sherlock says you're a Ministerial Aid, so I was wondering if you had anything to say about it. Or are you not allowed to say anything? In any case, I really hope that Mr. Leach is all right and that things aren't going as badly for him as the newspaper claims. It makes me really proud to know that someone like me can be Minister of Magic._

_Best Wishes,_

_Molly Hooper_

After signing her name, Molly folded the parchment and sealed it with a magical sealer that Meena had given her. Sherlock seemed to have been watching her out of the corner of his eye and noticed that she'd finished.

"They've moved Jennifer Wilson to St. Mungo's." He informed her and she frowned at him, never having heard of St. Mungo's. This alerted him that he needed to clarify. "St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. It's the British wizarding hospital."

"Oh, I see. She must be really ill if they decided to move her. Did you find out what she was poisoned with?"

"No. Madam Pomfrey won't say and none of the books I've looked in say anything about any poison with such ghastly effects." Sherlock replied with a furrowed brow of frustration and disappointment.

"Maybe it's a rare poison." John suggested.

"Clearly. Perhaps there is a book in the Restricted Section that can help us."

"You need teacher permission to get books out of there and I don't think any teachers will be willing to sign off for a book on rare poisons unless we come up with a  _really_  good reason." Molly pointed out and Sherlock gave a grin that both she and John had learnt to mean that their friend had a scheme forming in his mind. The two exchanged looks that said 'Oh boy, here we go.'

"That's simple. One of us just has to charm Professor Slughorn into signing the permission form. I recommend Molly."

"What!? Why me?" the girl shot back.

"Because Slughorn will never suspect you of anything more than academic interest."

"But I don't know how to charm anyone, let alone a teacher! Why can't  _you_  do it?" Sherlock let out an exasperated sigh at this and rolled his eyes.

"Obviously I can't do it. Slughorn would let it slip to Mycroft and then we'd have my brother breathing down our necks, demanding to know what we're up to." He drawled and Molly looked to John with an expression of anxiety. "No, John can't do it. Slughorn doesn't like him as much as he likes you." It was true. The Potions Master seemed to be quite fond of Molly and Sherlock, frequently awarding them house points and praising them freely. John was afforded no such courtesy because he wasn't quite as talented as his friends at the subject of Potions.

"Oh, fine. I'll do it." Molly finally gave in, hanging her head in defeat. Sherlock's eyes lit up, shining with a mad brilliance that was strangely compelling.

"Excellent! I knew we could count on you, Molly." With that, he quickly changed the subject again and the three studied together until it got so late that Madam Pince told them to go to bed. Rather reluctantly, the three children followed the order and went off to their separate houses.

The following morning, Molly sent off her letter to Mycroft and endured a few exams. In the afternoon, she heard that an Auror named Tobias Gregson had been called in to investigate Jennifer Wilson's poisoning. John told her that Aurors were dark wizard catchers and from that she understood why the whole school was whispering about it. In the library after dinner, Sherlock asserted that the Auror was an idiot. Apparently he'd run into Gregson, tried to learn more about the investigation, and was patronized for it. This left the Ravenclaw boy in a rather vicious mood that was only cured that Saturday when John suggested they have a snowball fight.

Sherlock and Molly went out to the grounds together that afternoon, having agreed to meet up with John and some of his Gryffindor friends. Molly was a bit nervous about it. She didn't know John's other friends and she had only ever had snow thrown at her in a mean spirited way before, so she was afraid she might go survival mode on them without meaning to. Sherlock noticed her skittishness and suggested that she just watch today, which she thought to be a good idea.

"Is that them coming down the hill?" Molly heard a dark haired boy she saw standing next to John call. She recognized him as Gryffindor's Keeper, Lestrade.

"Yeah, that's them. Sherlock, Molly, this is Greg Lestrade, Sally Donovan, and Arthur Weasley." John introduced the three with cheery enthusiasm. Arthur, a kind faced boy with a shock of red hair, beamed at Molly like she was the most interesting creature he'd ever laid eyes upon. It unnerved her a bit. "Oh, Molly, you should know that Arthur is really interested in Muggles." John hastily explained after taking note of the girl's discomfort.

"Oh! I see. Very nice to meet you, Arthur." Molly greeted shyly, holding her hand out for the redhead to shake, which he did very excitedly.

"John," Sherlock suddenly interrupted, "Molly will just be watching today. She is unfamiliar with wizard snowball fights, especially ones that are all in good fun, so she is justifiably apprehensive." Molly's eyes went wide with surprise and embarrassment at these words. Did he have to announce her fear like that to everyone? Was he  _trying_  to embarrass her? The Gryffindors glared at Sherlock, immediately seeing his impropriety. He gazed back them with a plain, honest expression, which slowly began to gain shades of confusion as he realized that something was amiss in the way the others were looking at him. John attempted to salvage the situation by distracting from it.

"Right. Well, it looks like we've got uneven numbers."

"Not a problem. I can make up for the difference." Sherlock replied, once again scoring bad points for himself socially with the others.

"Arrogant much." Sally muttered, her despising gaze intensifying. Sherlock stared blankly back at her, clearly having heard what she'd said.

"It's alright. I'll sit out with Molly." Arthur volunteered with a warm smile. He and the Hufflepuff girl went to stand over by a tree and Sally and Greg took several paces from John and Sherlock, drawing their wands. Greg counted off and then all off the sudden, the air between the two teams was filled with snowballs. Sherlock was summoning snowballs at an alarming rate, raining them down on the other team, while John deflected the ones Sally was hurling at them. It was all happening so quickly that Molly almost had trouble keeping up. Sherlock created a storm of icy snowballs which went pelting towards Greg and Sally. While they were busy deflecting them, he sent a second volley which swooped around and hammered them in the back, bring them to their knees quite effectively.

"Hold your fire!" Sally barked as she tried to get up and brush snow off of herself and shake it out of her thick, curly hair. Sherlock ceased his assault with a smirk.

"You win this round." Greg called and John went to help him to his feet (he'd been practically buried in snow). "I vote Sherlock switches out with Arthur next round." The other Gryffindors agreed and Sherlock grumpily swapped places with the redheaded boy, going to stand with Molly.

"You were very good. Where did you learn that spell?" The girl said, smiling shyly. She knew Sherlock was feeling quite displeased about being excluded for simply doing his best. A compliment would surely cheer him up.

"I learnt it at home. It was necessary in order to get ahead of my brother." Sherlock admitted with a small laugh. The distraction was working. Unfortunately, it didn't last very long as the boy decided to switch the topic to something Molly didn't want to discuss. "I know what they're calling you."

"What?"

"I know you've figured out by now what it means, but you need to be aware that it isn't just a slur. It is the most disgusting, hateful word in the wizarding world." Sherlock told Molly gravely and she stared back at him, stunned, tears threatening at the corners of her eyes. The memories of all the cruel encounters she'd endured suddenly became even more painful. "They may hit you and hurl that word at you, but you are not lesser for being what you are. You belong in this world, equal to everyone else. It is important that you understand that." An awkward silence followed in which Sherlock fidgeted and Molly raised her eyebrows in surprise. The Ravenclaw boy was not the sort of person who often said these types of things.

"Th-Thank you."

"There's no need to thank me." Sherlock was clearly uncomfortable with receiving gratitude. It didn't much bother Molly. She knew he wasn't good at little niceties like this.

"I think the phrase you're looking for is 'you're welcome'." The Hufflepuff told Sherlock with a shy smile and he gave her an awkward nod.

* * *

 Molly and Sherlock stood, bent over their cauldrons, trying to brew Forgetfulness Potions.

"Don't stick your face so close to it, Molly." Sherlock scolded, brow furrowing. The girl looked back at him sheepishly and took a step back from her cauldron. He was right. It was especially important that she not breathe in the fumes today. She could feel the Restricted Section permission form hanging heavy in her robe pocket and she was reminded of the task she had to perform after class.

"Hey, Hooper." Gilderoy Lockhart leaned back to whisper to Molly and went a bit too far, causing the girl's hand to jerk and splash the contents of her ladle all over her face and down her front. "Oh! I'm so sorry! Let me-" Lockhart was about to reach for his cleaning cloth, but Sherlock had already handed Molly his handkerchief and was glaring rather menacingly at his fellow Ravenclaw. That was enough to silence Lockhart and persuade him to immediately turn back to his own work.

The lesson proceeded without further incident and at the end, Sherlock left the classroom in a hurry while Molly took her time packing away her things. Gilderoy Lockhart approached her when most of their classmates had left.

"I just wanted to say again how sorry I am." Molly looked back at him with an expression of mild bewilderment.

"Sorry? What are you apologizing for?" Then it dawned on the boy what had happened.

"Oh! Right. It's nothing. Never mind." He dashed off before another word could be said between them. Still frowning, Molly picked up her things and left the dungeons. It wasn't until evening that she learnt what she'd missed.

"Molly, that was our last chance to get Slughorn's signature before the Holidays! He's leaving tonight on business! He told us that in class!" Sherlock huffed angrily at her while they and John sat in their usual place in the library. The dark haired boy ruffled his curls in a gesture of frustration.

"It's not Molly's fault, Sherlock. That Lockhart bloke splashed Forgetfulness Potion all over her." John implored, seeing from Molly's reddening face that the girl was very upset by her failure and Sherlock wasn't helping. The blond's words successfully redirected his verbal aggression.

"Yes, Gilderoy Lockhart seems to exist for the sole purpose of making life more difficult. I should get Basil to chew holes in his sheets for this."

"Sherlock! That's quite cruel. Lockhart didn't mean any harm. It was an accident." Molly piped up with a small sniffle. For a long moment, Sherlock simply stared at her, eyes narrowed as if he was trying to make a decision about her.

"In any case, we are left with no proper access to the Restricted Section. John is leaving tomorrow, so you and I will have to do the breaking in ourselves."

"Sorry, what? Did you say breaking in? Breaking into where?" John asked in disbelief while Molly simply gaped in horror.

"The Restricted Section, obviously."

"You can't be serious."

"It's our only option."

"No, it's not! We could just wait until after the Holidays for Slughorn to get back and ask permission then." John hissed in protest, not wanting to be overheard. Sherlock rolled his eyes derisively.

"Right, and leave the investigation entirely to that incompetent Auror for a whole month? I think not." The Ravenclaw leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms to signify that he wasn't going to budge on this issue.

"Fine. Fine." John threw his hands up in defeat, standing and then gathering up his things. "I'll leave him to you, Molly. Make sure he doesn't end up hanging in the dungeons by his thumbs. Now I'm going to bed; I've a train to catch in the morning." Molly giggled at this.

"Have a lovely holiday, John."

"You too, Molly. And you, Sherlock." Sherlock seemed slightly taken aback by John's extending well wishes to him, but quickly recovered, giving his friend a nod. Once the blond was gone, Sherlock and Molly were left in a bit of an uncomfortable silence.

"I...suppose we aught to go to be as well. Goodnight, Sherlock." She received a brief, courteous smile in return before she too gathered her things and headed off to bed.

Molly didn't see much of Sherlock for a while. She presumed that he was spending a lot of time in Ravenclaw Tower and hoped that he wasn't avoiding her for some odd reason. Since most of her other friends had gone home for the Holidays, she was left feeling rather lonely. In the days leading up to Christmas, she passed time by reading a book of fun spells and ice skating on the Black Lake. She'd learnt a spell that transfigured her shoes into ice skates. One afternoon, Molly ran into Professor McGonagall, who had apparently caught sight of her doing the spell, and was given high praise. Molly was quite proud of herself for it.

"You skate well." The sound of Sherlock's voice coming from the shore of the lake on Christmas Eve was almost enough to make Molly lose her balance, but she only wobbled.

"Th-Thanks."

"You're welcome." That succeeded in bringing a small smile to the Hufflepuff's lips. She skated to shore and transfigured her skates back into shoes. Sherlock quirked an eyebrow at her. "So that's what you've been doing." He muttered, almost to himself. They began walking back across the grounds and Molly pulled her yellow and black scarf higher on her neck so that it covered her chin.

"You want to talk about something? You wouldn't be out here if it wasn't important."

"Yes," he replied with a smirk, "I'm here to tell you that we're going to do it tomorrow night when everyone else will be too caught up in the holiday to pay much attention."

"Oh. Alright then, what time exactly?" Molly found herself disturbingly calm about this whole thing. They were only going to sneak around after curfew, break into the Restricted Section of the library, and steal a book on rare poisons. No big deal.

"We'll leave the feast together and head straight for the library. It's that simple."

"Isn't that a bit obvious?"

"Did you not hear the part about no one paying attention?"

"Right," Molly said somewhat skeptically, "I'm going to trust that you've got this all worked out, but if we end up hanging in the dungeons by our thumbs, I swear I will write to your brother about everything we've been up to." She was nearly shocked into taking a step back when Sherlock grinned at her in response.

"I will see you tomorrow morning," he told her as they entered the castle before dashing up the stairs. Molly sighed and headed back to Hufflepuff Basement. She flopped down on the squashy sofa by the hearth with a groan. She wasn't much looking forward to Christmas, if she was honest. Christmas wasn't fun at the girls' home. They didn't get presents or even a special meal. As a result, she just didn't think it was in her to be excited about it. She'd be surrounded at the feast by people who had all gotten gifts from people who loved them. She had no one and would surely receive nothing.

When Molly woke up the following morning, she found out how wrong she'd been.

After sitting up and rubbing her eyes, Molly was able to focus and see the stack of packages at the end of her bed. For a moment, she stared in disbelief, then she hurriedly grabbed the present on top with the widest of grins upon her face. She ripped open the sapphire blue wrapping paper to find a thick, knitted cotton jumper. As she tossed the wrapping aside, a letter fell onto her lap. She knew who it was from the moment she saw the blue wax seal. Unable to control her elation, she hastily opened the letter which read:

_Dear Ms. Hooper,_

_Merry Christmas. I hope all is going well for you. I saw this jumper in a shop a few weeks ago and thought it would be to your taste. The other gift I have sent you is a little something commonly seen in the Holmes household around this time of year. I do hope you enjoy it._

_I did receive your last letter and the Minister was quite touched by your concern for him. He would like me to inform you that he is plowing on with determination and that he wants you to do the same, no matter what difficulties you may face as a Muggleborn. My own personal comment on the situation is that things are going better than expected. I'm afraid I can't tell you much more about it than that._

_In regards to my dear little brother, I hope he is also well and that you are keeping him out of trouble to the best of your ability._

_Sincerely,_

_Mycroft Holmes_

Molly stopped to just gaze at Mycroft's signature for a moment in reverence. He treated her as his own little sister and that warmed her heart a great deal. Not to mention he'd actually spoken to  _the Minister of Magic himself_  about her. Still grinning like a fool, she donned the red jumper and turned to the next gift, which was rather hard and heavy. It turned out to be Mycroft's second gift, a large tin filled to the brim with fudge. Trying a piece, she found that it was the most delicious thing she'd ever tasted. The next gift she opened was, jointly from Sherlock and John, a book titled  _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_. It was a collection of wizard fairy tales, no doubt known by every young witch and wizard in Britain. They'd clearly given this to her to help her better integrate into the magical world.

The last two presents were surprisingly from Professor Sprout and Dumbledore. The Herbology teacher had given her an illustrated book of medicinal plants and the Headmaster had gifted her a pair of thick, cream colored socks. Molly didn't know if she could get any happier. She practically skipped up to the Great Hall for breakfast and sat down next to Sherlock at the table to plant a kiss on his pale cheek.

"That's for both you and John," she told him cheerfully as he stared back at her in shocked confusion. He blinked a few times before finding the words to reply.

"I, um...I take it you like our gift, then." Sherlock spoke slowly and Molly thought she saw his cheeks turn a little bit pink.

"Very much." She replied before happily forking a piece of waffle into her mouth. Sherlock's mood seemed to become quite positive after that. He proceeded to spend the rest of the morning enthusiastically teaching her Wizard's Chess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ta da! ALL the fluff! Writing Mycroft's letter to Molly actually gave me some of the warmest fuzzies. Next chapter will include the first real adventure (sadly sans John) and a few surprises. Thanks for reading!


	6. Cloak and Dagger Nonsense

“Pringle will have our skins if he catches us.”

“Mr. Pringle is currently sleeping off too much Firewhiskey in his office. Stop worrying, Molly. It'll be fine. Just follow my lead.” Sherlock and Molly whispered to each other as they headed down the unlit corridor towards the library. Molly held tightly to her friend's sleeve so as not to lose him in the dark. They entered the library cautiously. Madam Pince was not about, just as Sherlock had promised. The pair tiptoed across the library, trying not to even breathe loudly for fear that someone might hear them. Sherlock drew his (exceptionally) long black wand to unlock the door to the Restricted Section, the incantation barely audible as it fell from his lips. They snuck inside, pausing briefly in horror when the hinges of the door let out a squeak. Hearing no other movement, they continued on and lit their wands, beginning to peruse the shelves. Molly's gaze fell on a thick, black leather bound volume on one of the higher shelves.

“Oi, Sherlock, give me a lift. I've a good feeling about that book there.” She pointed to the black book and Sherlock quirked a dark eyebrow at her. For a moment, she thought he wasn't going to do it, but then he grabbed her around the waist and lifted her up. Despite being a small chap, he was apparently quite strong, and she was soon able to pluck the book off the shelf. He set her back on her feet and she turned the book over to look at its title in the light of her friend's wand. _Enchantments and Elixirs for the Desperate_ , it read. Sherlock's blue eyes shone with excitement.

“Look at the table of contents.” As requested, Molly opened the book to the correct page and ran her finger down the listings. Under the heading of 'Potions', she immediately spotted the section called 'Poisons' and tapped the page with her finger to draw Sherlock's attention to it. He grinned at it and then at her. “Excellent. Your intuition seems to be quite attuned, Molly. This is exactly what we're looking for.” Without further ado, Sherlock tucked the book under his arm and grabbed Molly's to pull her out of the Restricted Section. They made their way as quietly as possible out of the library and back through the castle. Once they reached the staircase, it was time for them to separate. “Molly, you must take the book now. Your fellow Hufflepuffs are more likely to respect boundaries than the Ravenclaws. Lockhart in particular seems to have very little respect for personal property. We don't want people discovering this book, understood?” He handed the volume over to his friend, who nodded fervently. “Bring it to the empty classroom on the fourth floor tomorrow morning at ten o'clock so we can both have a look at it.” With that, the pair went their own ways. Molly hurried down to Hufflepuff Basement and was fortunate enough not to be spotted. Back in her dorm, she stowed the book between her mattress and headboard where no one would see it or look for it. All but one of her roommates had gone home for Christmas, and the girl was sound asleep with her back facing Molly, so she was relatively certain she went unseen and unheard.

As she settled into her warm sheets, Molly couldn't help but worry about whether Sherlock had made it up to Ravenclaw Tower undetected or not. Her worrying was not for nothing either. The next morning, he was an entire half hour late in meeting up with her.

“Where've you been?”

“Flitwick's office. Pringle caught me on the stairs so now Ravenclaw's lost fifteen points and I had to endure a very long lecture about breaking curfew from my Head of House. Good job I wasn't caught with the book. This is why having an accomplice is often useful. Now, hand over the book,” Sherlock said rapidly in response as he sat down on the floor next to Molly. Still frowning, the brunette flipped open the book and placed it between them so that they could both look at it.

“I only found one poison that mentions frothing at the mouth. 'Bohemian Befouling Brew' it's called. See.” She pointed to the potion's heading and Sherlock grinned at her. He appreciated that she'd already done the tedious bit for him. After reading the entry on the substance, which included its effects and how to make it, his mind was teaming with ideas.

“This is exactly what we've been looking for. I'm sure of it.” The excitement in Sherlock's eyes was contagious. In seconds, Molly was grinning as well. “Now all that's left to us is figuring out how and by whom the poison was administered.”

“Where do we start?”

“Think, Molly. This is a rare poison of foreign origin. It's the sort of thing only a truly refined master of potion making would be able to concoct.”

“Sherlock, are you implying that Professor Slughorn-”

“Don't be stupid. Slughorn is much too gentle to ever consider harming someone and I doubt even he has the ability to make this poison. What does that tell us? That tells us that either there is a powerful dark wizard in the castle or whoever tried to kill Jennifer bought it. The presence of Mr. Gregson says that the Ministry thinks it's a dark wizard. I, on the other hand, am relatively certain we're looking for a buyer. Why would a dark wizard go through the trouble of sneaking into Hogwarts to do a sloppy job of poisoning a thirteen year old girl? That's just ridiculous. Now, where can someone buy Bohemian Befouling Brew? That's simple. It's in the name.” Sherlock explained rapidly and Molly gaped.

“Bohemia,” she gasped.

“Precisely. We need to find a person who's been to Bohemia recently.”

“How do we do that?”

“No idea.” With a heavy sigh, Sherlock flopped onto his back and stared at the ceiling. They'd reached a dead end in their investigation (as Sherlock called it). This concerned the Ravenclaw because it meant boredom. Molly was more worried about Jennifer's would be assassin walking around and justice not being served. She did, after all, believe that Sherlock was right and that they were doing a better job than Gregson (who treated the students poorly and had an 'I know best' attitude that both she and Sherlock despised). They hadn't heard much about Jennifer Wilson's health lately. All they knew was that she was still at St. Mungo's.

When John returned after the holidays, they told him all that they had discovered and showed him the book they'd successfully pilfered from the Restricted Section of the library. The Gryffindor was impressed that they'd managed to get away with it until Molly mentioned that Sherlock had been caught on his way back to Ravenclaw Tower by Mr. Pringle. After that, Sherlock refused to speak with her for two days. In that time, she was forced to walk the corridors alone and at first, she was afraid the harassment she'd been getting before the holidays would worsen, but after a couple of days, she realized the opposite had occurred. The most she was getting now was a glare every so often. It puzzled her. What could have changed to make people leave her be? Not that she was complaining. She was just curious. Once Sherlock forgave her for her little slip of the tongue, she asked him about it.

“Sherlock, I don't know if you've noticed- what am I saying, of course you've noticed. You notice everything,” Molly started as she, Sherlock, and John left the Great Hall together after dinner the day Sherlock started speaking to her again. The dark haired boy's scrutinizing gaze being drawn to her caused her to feel like she was being silly, so she rushed to get on with what she was trying to say. “I-I mean...why've people suddenly stopped bothering me?”

“Does it really matter why? The important part is that they're leaving you alone.” Sherlock replied, not looking at her. That made it clear to her that he knew, but wasn't going to say. Molly looked to John for assistance, but the blond only shrugged and changed the subject.

“So Molly, was I the only one who got a letter from Mycroft mentioning that today's Sherlock's twelfth birthday?” The Hufflepuff almost stopped dead in her tracks at this. It was January 6th, Sherlock's birthday, and it had been nagging at the back of her mind all day without her being able to remember what it was until now. A wave of shame washed over her as she realized that not only had she practically forgotten, but she'd failed to procure a gift for her friend. She watched guiltily as John took a small bag from the pocket of his robes and handed it to Sherlock. “Happy Birthday, mate. I know you like Peppermint Toads, so I got you some while I was on holiday.” Sherlock seemed genuinely surprised by this gesture. Molly had only every seen him look quite this way once before, when she kissed his cheek on Christmas.

“H-Happy Birthday, Sherlock. I'm really sorry I don't have anything for you.”

“It's fine. I know you don't really have the means and I wasn't expecting much of anything from anyone anyway.” Sherlock responded quietly as the trio took their usual table in the library. He pulled Basil out of his pocket and the mouse scurried across the wooden surface to sniff the copy of _Most Potent Potions_ Molly had taken out of her bag. He probably smelled whiffs of Mycroft's fudge. She'd been keeping the tin atop her textbooks. After a moment, Basil moved on, scuttling at a much slower pace that before. Great, now Molly felt like she'd let down both Sherlock _and_ his mouse today.

“Surely you got a few things from your family?” John questioned, providing Molly a distraction from her despair.

“I did. Mycroft renewed my Daily Prophet subscription. Mummy sent me a Montrose Magpies banner. Gran gave me supplementary Potions ingredients, things not included in our kits for school.”

“You're a Montrose Magpies fan?” John's face lit up in excitement. It took Molly a moment to remember they were talking about a Scottish Quidditch team, so her intrigued reaction was a bit delayed. Sherlock took no visual notice of either of them. He was too busy watching Basil.

“'Fan' is too strong of a word. I simply passively believe they are the best team in the British Quidditch League. I take it that you are of a similar, stronger opinion, and that you've clashed with your sister several times over it. Mummy latched onto my own casual interest, since she supports them as well, so every now and again, I get a bit of merchandise from her.” Sherlock explained, eyes still following his mouse.

“What about your dad? Who does he support?” Molly asked innocently. Oh God, Sherlock was looking at her now at it was terrifying. Never before had either she or John seen such a cold expression on the boy's face.

“I wouldn't know.” He answered simply. His voice, though quiet, calm, and even toned, carried with it a heavy weight of distain. An awkward silence followed that was only broken when Sherlock scooped up Basil and left without another word. This was the first time Molly and John became aware that Sherlock's home life was less than pleasant. Sure, they knew he was antagonistic with his brother and his mum wasn't home very often, but he'd never mentioned his dad, and now they understood a little bit why. Whoever Sherlock's father was, Sherlock clearly hated him.

Molly and John resolved never to speak of Sherlock's father again unless he brought it up first. When Molly sat with him in Defense Against the Dark Arts the following day, he seemed to have forgotten about her inadvertent offense and whispered to her his latest scheme before the beginning of class.

“We've got to find out what Gregson knows.”

“How? He's pretty tightlipped about it.”

“Honestly, Molly, did you think we were just going to waltz up to him and ask? No, we're going to sneak into the office Dumbledore's lent him on the fourth floor. There's bound to be some useful information floating around there.” Sherlock replied as he took out his copy of _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection_ and set it rather loudly on his desk. Molly frowned at this gesture until she caught sight of Gilderoy Lockhart quickly looking away from them. Clearly the other Ravenclaw had been staring at her again and, as always, it had irritated Sherlock. Before the Hufflepuff could bring her thoughts back around to what Sherlock had said, Professor Hope appeared and a piece of chalk began writing on the board behind him. It spelled out 'Wand Lighting Charm' and below that, in calligraphy, 'Lumos'. Sherlock sighed at this and Molly rested her chin in her palm. This was going to be a slow day. She could tell.

“Good morning, kids. Today you're going to learn the Wand Lighting Charm. Now some of you may already be familiar with it, since it's a common spell. Would anyone care to demonstrate?” Hope began, eyes scanning the room of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw first years through his thick glasses. Molly raised her hand out of habit, but Lockhart's arm shot up with an excitement that almost everyone in the room found annoying. Professor Hope, forever favoring Ravenclaws over other students, pointed to him. The blond boy shot up from his seat and went to stand at the front of the class. He performed the spell with significantly more gravitas than was required, considering he was only making a little light appear at the end of his wand. A few of his classmates awkwardly clapped for him, including Molly, and he bowed as if he'd just performed some amazing feat. Sherlock rolled his eyes and began casually flipping through his textbook with an incredibly bored expression on his face. Once Hope told the class to start practicing, he shut the volume and stowed it back in his bag.

“You should see how long it takes that idiot to do his morning routine. I timed it the other day out of boredom. Half an hour just for his hair,” Sherlock grumbled.

“There's noting wrong with wanting to look nice.”

“Molly, there's a difference between wanting to be presentable and being incredibly vain. Lockhart is the latter.”

“Why do you call him Lockhart? He's a Ravenclaw and your dorm mate.”

“Because I don't consider him a proper Ravenclaw. Honestly, if you had to sleep in the same room as him, you'd realize just how irritating he is.”

“I think you're being too hard on him.” This earned Molly her own disdainful glare.

“You wouldn't think so if you knew him better.”

“Maybe I will get to know him better,” Molly replied cheekily and Sherlock's expression only intensified. Before Sherlock could even open his mouth to have his revenge, Professor Hope shuffled over to their desk and looked blankly down at them with his beady blue eyes.

“I want to see both of you in my office after class.” Without even waiting for their responses, he shuffled off, leaving Sherlock and Molly to speculate about what kind of trouble they were in.

“Oh no, is he angry about us not practicing spells in class?” Molly was rather worried and upset, but Sherlock sighed heavily and reclined in his chair.

“Don't be ridiculous. He'd have said so if that was the case. Besides, that's not the sort of thing he'd get angry about.” They spent the rest of the period trying to figure out what they'd done and what their punishment was likely to be. Then when the classroom emptied, they made their way up to Hope's office. For Molly, it was like she was walking to her execution, never having been in trouble at school before in her life. She'd turned a clammy white and her hands shook. Sherlock was considerably more relaxed about it, mostly irritated with his friend for having to remind her multiple times to breathe. He knocked firmly on the professor's door and a second later, they heard the invitation to come in. The two first years hesitantly entered the office, Sherlock grabbing Molly's sleeve and practically dragging her in with him.

“Why don't you both have a seat?” Professor Hope gestured to the little wooden chairs before his cluttered desk. They silently obeyed. “Would you like a cuppa, Hooper? You look a bit off colour.”

“N-No, thank you, professor. I'm fine.” Molly answered tightly, staring intently at the jar of murky, reddish brown liquid on the shelf behind Hope.

“Are we in trouble, sir?” Sherlock asked tersely.

“No, no, no, it's nothing like that. Quite the opposite, in fact. I've noticed that both of you are rather beyond first year learning level in this subject, so after some discussion with the headmaster, it's been agreed that you should given more difficult material to study.” Hope explained and both children lit up.

“You're moving us into the second year class?” Sherlock questioned, and undeniable hint of aspiration in his voice.

“I'm afraid we can't go that far. Your time tables won't allow for it. However, I can give you the second year material.” He plonked down two textbooks in a clearer, flat area of his desk. Delighted, Sherlock and Molly each took one. Sherlock paused for a split second as he reached for his, blue orbs flashing in interest at something on a bit of parchment, but only Molly noticed. She'd ask later. “I'll give you a week to catch up to where the second years are and then I'll give you their assignments instead of the first year ones. Does that sound fair?”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” Molly responded, beaming and hugging the second year textbook to her chest. Hope gave them his usual creepy old man smile and sent them on their way. As they walked down a staircase, heading down for lunch, Sherlock glanced at Molly and noticed the spring in her step, but didn't say anything. It was remarkable how quickly she'd gone from 'oh god we're gonna die' to 'everything is sunshine and soft kittens'. That wasn't really was he was devoting his thoughts to, though, if what he did next was any indication.

“I'm going to the library.” Sherlock announced flatly, stopping abruptly in the Entrance Hall. Before Molly could question it, he'd turned on his heel and dashed back up the stairs. She felt the urge to call after him and demand that he eat something first, but he'd already disappeared.

Later, in the evening, when she and John met up with him in the disused classroom they'd made their hideout, she brought it up.

“Sherlock, why did you suddenly go off to the library during lunch?” This attracted John's interest immediately. Like Molly, he could always tell when Sherlock was up to something.

“When we were in Hope's office earlier and-” Sherlock began, but John interrupted.

“Hang on. Why were you two in Hope's office?” The blond narrowed his eyes at them in suspicion.

“Oh, he's moving us up to second year material.” Sherlock answered unabashedly.

“You too? Well, that's a relief.”

“He moved you up as well? Why didn't you tell us?” Molly inquired in surprise, looking slightly hurt at not being confided in.

“Because Sherlock would have ignored me for days if I had.”

“Oh.”

“ _Anyway_...” Sherlock interjected with an insistent tone and his friends fell silent. “I saw the name Wenceslas on a bit of parchment. I think it was an envelope.”

“Yeah...and?”

“Wenceslas is a Czech name.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehe, things are finally starting to get moving. I know there is a thing here that goes against Sherlock canon thanks to Series 3. If you've seen it, you know what it is. If not, I won't tell you. I'm not changing it because it'll mess up the structure of things I've planned. First year will end within a few chapters, just so you know. Thanks for reading. All the support is highly valuable.


	7. Tricks and Traps

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! Thanks for patiently waiting for this update. I hope it was worth it.
> 
> WARNING: This chapter contains violence against children and frightening situations.

 “Oh my...you don't mean...but...” Molly's eyes went wide and her speech was fractured when she realized that Sherlock was implying that Professor Hope was the one who'd poisoned Jennifer Wilson.

“Yes. And that's not all. He kept fidgeting with something in his pocket when he wasn't talking. I think he was hoping you'd accept his tea offer, Molly, so he could slip the poison into your drink. That would also explain where Jennifer had been coming from before she collapsed.”

“But it can't be! He's an odd bloke, yeah, but why would he do that? He's a teacher.” John protested.

“Who else would it be? A student? None of our peers are both clever and malicious enough to do it.”

“But a teacher-!”

“You seem to have forgotten what I told you about people being vile and entirely not what they appear to be.” Sherlock replied coldly.

“It could just be a coincidence. It must be. I can't believe Professor Hope would ever hurt anyone, least of all a kid,” Molly put in.

“Molly, your utter faith in people is frankly nauseating.” This statement from Sherlock had the effect of immediately silencing the brunette. Her large brown eyes became excessively shiny and Sherlock went still. “Don't cry.” There was the slightest hint of fear in those words and Molly reacted in a way that shocked both boys.

“Why not? Oh, right. Because Sherlock Holmes is disgusted by feelings,” she retorted quite sharply. Placing Basil, whom she'd been petting, on Sherlock's knee, she stood and briskly strode out of the room. She paused outside the door long enough to hear John scold Sherlock and as far as she could tell, the Ravenclaw gave no response. An image popped into her mind of Sherlock rolling his eyes and her face really started to burn with the threat of tears. Without further delay, Molly rushed down to Hufflepuff Basement, brushing off the concern of her housemates in the Common Room to head directly to her dorm. Jumping onto her yellow and black fourposter bed, she buried her face in her pillow and let herself cry.

Broadly speaking, she'd had an awful day. Sherlock had been particularly ill mannered. That stuck out the most of all the things that had gone wrong. He'd been acting particularly horridly recently and she began worrying that something was happening to him again. She hoped he was alright. No, she couldn't go feeling sympathetic when he'd been so cruel. But maybe it wasn't really his fault. He didn't appear to be very close with anyone in his family. They probably hadn't taught him better (well, Mycroft seemed to try, but it wasn't very effective since Sherlock didn't respect his authority all that much). He was most likely right about Hope anyway. He was always right. She just didn't want to believe that a teacher could be a bad person. Typical Sherlock, dealing out cold reality.

With a sigh, Molly rolled over, wiped her eyes, and resolved that tomorrow she would find Sherlock and apologize for being rude to him. The trouble was, she couldn't find him in any of the usual places. She asked Ravenclaws if they'd seen him in their Common Room, but apparently he wasn't there either. Eventually, she became quite worried. How could she not after a student had been poisoned that year? What if Hope had found out what they were up to and killed Sherlock? The thought almost made her break down sobbing in the middle of a fifth floor corridor. Fortunately, she ran into John, who helped her keep it together and search for their friend, just as he always did. They went out to the grounds, wondering if perhaps Sherlock was mad enough to go out in such horribly cold conditions (or if other students were cruel enough to leave him out there). After only ten minutes of trudging through the snow, Molly and John could barely feel their fingers and toes.

To their relief, they found him not much later, climbing up a slope and holding some sort of small, grey ceramic pot or bowl in his gloved hands.

“Oi!” John called out and Sherlock looked up at them, a look of mild surprise on his face. “What're you out here for, Sherlock? You could lose a finger or two.”

“I won't. I've got this.” The Ravenclaw gestured with his pot thing as he came to the top of the incline to meet them.

“Ooh, that's clever.” Molly commented in reverence as she looked into the container.

“What's clever- oh!” John's eyebrows rose in astonishment at the blue flames that merrily danced about inside Sherlock's pot thing. The dark haired boy smirked and continued on toward the school.

“Sherlock, I'm sorry for yesterday. I was upset, but that's not an excuse.” Molly apologized and Sherlock quirked an eyebrow, clearly not expecting this.

“It's fine,” he replied blankly.

“I-I believe you, by the way. About Hope. What do we do?” Molly's teeth chattered as she spoke, which she wished would be enough to cover up the nervousness in her voice.

“Well, obviously we're going to have to snoop around his office for hard evidence of his crime. We need to be sure that he's the one and that we can prove he did it,” Sherlock stated as if it was the simplest thing in the world. They entered the castle and other passing students complained of the gust of freezing air they'd let into the Entrance Hall. “We need to talk about this somewhere where others won't overhear.” Too tired to argue, John and Molly followed Sherlock to their disused classroom, where he set his pot of fire on the floor before himself, drew his wand, and muttered  _engorgio_. It grew big enough for its warmth to be shared between the three of them and they settled in, the other two paying close attention to Sherlock's plan. “We need to be sure he's out when we're in his office. We should give ourselves a lot of time. When will Hope definitely be out of his office for a notably long time? Next weekend is the Ravenclaw vs. Slytherin match. I have no doubt that he will be attending. It's the perfect opportunity. Unfortunately, it will seem a bit odd if I'm not there as well, so you two will have to do it.”

At first, the pair heavily objected to this, but with a few more bits of irritatingly sound reasoning, Sherlock convinced them to do as he asked. They spent the week thereafter developing this scheme until suddenly it was Saturday morning and it was go time.

Molly sat in the Great Hall, staring at her toast as if doing so would make it disappear. It was giving her a not so motivational speech in Sherlock's voice until it was interrupted by Meena's worried tones.

“Molly, you can't chew and digest food by glaring at it. What's gotten into you lately? You've hardly eaten and you look nearly as pale as a ghost. Please tell me what's wrong.”

“Quidditch,” was the only word Molly could get out without feeling like she was in imminent danger of being sick.

“What're you worried about Quidditch for? It's not like Hufflepuff's playing tod- oh.” A knowing grin spread across Meena's round face. “You really want  _his_  team to win, don't you?”

“Who?”

“You know exactly who I'm referring to. Don't deny it.” This was enough to distract Molly from what she considered to be her impending doom and prompt her to give her friend a look of exasperation and a half lie.

“I only want them to win because he'll be grumpy for days and he's mean when he's grumpy. For the last time, Meena,  _I haven't got a crush on him_.” She really didn't. She was very fond of Sherlock Holmes, yes, but she didn't have  _those_  sorts of feelings for him.

“I'll believe you if you eat your breakfast.” Providing Molly with sufficient motivation to do so, the first year tucked in and didn't think about what she would have to being doing later until she'd finished.

That suffocating anxiety came back the second she turned in the direction opposite all of the other students, who were heading out to the Quidditch Pitch. Skittishly, she made her way up to meet John, constantly checking to make sure she wasn't being followed or watched. She could hear her inner Sherlock berating her for being so paranoid.

“Molly.” The sound of John calling out to her made her jump. It oddly calmed her to see that John was just about as nervous as she was. Soon, they found themselves at the door of Professor Hope's office. It was locked, of course, but a simple unlocking charm fixed that. The pair crept inside warily. Sherlock had warned them that a man as clever as Hope was likely to have traps or alarms set up in his office to stop people from snooping about, just as they were. Fortunately, they hadn't encountered any yet. The place was a mess, though, so he didn't really need magic for traps. His possessions themselves were enough of a hazard. A chair near the corner was stacked high with papers and a set of scales. More papers were strewn across the floor and other surfaces. The desk was a nightmare. Jars of unknown things, magical instruments of various sorts and sizes, quills and empty ink bottles, candle nubs, and other  _stuff_  cluttered that surface alone. Unfortunately, it was their best bet for anything incriminating, if the name Sherlock had spotted there was anything to go by.

John and Molly both wished that Sherlock had come with them as they surveyed the slovenly room. He was much better at searching for things than either of them were. On top of that, he was the one who would best be able to spot evidence, given his keen deductive powers. Jealous of Sherlock's role of watching Quidditch and supporting his house's team, the two grudgingly got to work.

Sherlock had told them to be sure to put everything back in its exact place. They couldn't risk Hope being given reason to suspect anything. There were few things that had the pressure of the task bearing down on them like that than every time they moved anything. John began with the surface of the desk, carefully lifting leafs of parchment, while Molly tried the drawers. Disappointment was found in all but the last one, which she discovered to be locked when she tried it. She whispered  _alohamora_  and heard a satisfying click, but the moment she tried to pull the drawer open, black ink explosively spurted all over her face. She let out a sputtering cry and John immediately came to kneel down beside her.

“What happened?!” he inquired frantically, trying to help Molly wipe the ink from her face. Unfortunately, the liquid did not seem to want to come off.

“I opened the drawer and it spat ink at me,” she said. John looked in the drawer in question. It was filled with what appeared to be items confiscated from students, like wind up chattering teeth that had been enchanted to say rude things and a prank wand that went floppy the moment one picked it up. In amongst the wide array of objects was a small bottle filled with a colourless liquid and labelled 'jedu z Čechy'. John frowned at it, not understanding. “John, I think we should go.” Molly tugged at the Gryffindor's sleeve nervously. “Come on.”

“Alright. Put your hood up. We don't want to risk anyone seeing your face.” John replied as he hastily placed the bottle back in the drawer and pulled Molly with him towards the door. Her friends had come to trust the intuition she had. When she said it was time to go, it was time to go. This time, it turned out to be particularly important that John had listened to her because just as they were making it to the stairs, they heard Professor Hope's voice and looked over the railing to see the man himself coming up on a moving staircase below with Sherlock beside him. They were having a conversation and Sherlock's body language seemed to suggest nervousness.

“I think he's trying to stall Hope,” Molly commented as she unconsciously pulled her hood lower.

“Come on!” John hissed in panic, grabbing the Hufflepuff's wrist and dragging her to the fourth floor where they hid in the abandoned classroom. About a half an hour later, Sherlock arrived, looking a bit relieved to see them...that is, until he spotted Molly with her hood pulled down over her face.

“Molly, lower your hood,” he ordered. Slowly, she did as he asked, revealing her ink stained countenance. One would have seen her cheeks go red from embarrassment if they hadn't been covered in black. “What happened?”

“I'm sorry. Hope's desk was booby trapped. It sprayed ink on me when I opened it and it won't come off,” Molly admitted in a small, upset voice. Sherlock reached out and wiped his thumb across her cheek. Sure enough, it came away clean.

“Did you leave anything behind?” he asked, eyes narrowing at her.

“N-No, I don't think so.”

“Did you find any evidence?”

“I don't know.” John piped up and Sherlock's gaze shot over to him. “I think we should worry about getting Molly's face clean first. Potential evidence won't do us much good if Hope hears about a student with ink all over her face,” the Gryffindor hastily added as Sherlock opened his mouth to inquire about this maybe evidence. He paused for a moment, occasionally looking back and forth between John and Molly, before giving an accepting nod.

“A simple spell won't do it. We need a cleaning solution. Fortunately, I carry a bottle of such a potion with me,” Sherlock told them, drawing said bottle from the pocket of his robes. The other two gaped at him.

“Why do you just happen to carry a cleaning potion around with you?” John asked incredulously. Sherlock shrugged.

“It comes in handy in rule breaking situations. Such as now.” The Ravenclaw said it as if it were the most obvious, normal thing in the world, but John continued to stare at him. He ignored it and turned his attention entirely to Molly. Taking his handkerchief from another pocket, he dabbed a bit of green liquid onto it and started wiping off Molly's face. “Now, tell me about this possible evidence.”

“I found a strange little bottle in the drawer Molly opened. It had a liquid in it and was labeled 'jedoo zee ketchy', but I've no idea what that means.” John explained once his brain caught up with Sherlock.

“It's pronounced 'yedu z chekhy' and what color was this liquid?”

“Er, it was clear like water.”

“Then we have indeed found our evidence.”

“What?”

“Jedu z Čechy means Poison of Bohemia in Czech. It's the less alliterative term for Bohemian Befouling Brew. It is, if brewed properly, colourless.”

“Oh.”

“What do we do now?” Molly asked, her voice sounding a little odd because Sherlock was busy rubbing ink off her nose. For a long moment, the Ravenclaw didn't answer. The other two patiently waited for him to speak, knowing better than to disturb their friend while he was deep in thought.

“We have to bring it to Dumbledore. He's the only adult who'll take us seriously,” he said eventually. The other two nodded in agreement. “Hold still, Molly, or do you want me to poke your eye out?”

“Sorry!” The ink was proving slow in its willingness to be removed, but at least it was actually coming off. Sherlock was almost done, he just had to get around Molly's eyes and eyebrows.

“We'll go to Dumbledore right after lunch. People are always in a more receptive mood after they've eaten. Alright, Molly, I'm finished.” With that, Sherlock drew his wand and set the handkerchief alight, letting it burn into nothingness. The three of them got to their feet and headed down to the Great Hall.

“Who won the match, by the way?” John asked as they passed through the Entrance Hall.

“Slytherin,” Sherlock responded, sounded more than a little displeased.

“Damn. If Hufflepuff doesn't win against them, they'll probably take the Cup.” This put the three of them in a rather sour mood that only got worse when they came into the Great Hall.

“Where's Dumbledore?” Molly frowned heavily and the boys just stared at the empty seat where the headmaster should have been. Suddenly, Sherlock went dashing up between the long tables, John and Molly following once they realized what he was doing. They came to stand before Professor McGonagall, who eyed them in a somewhat disapproving manner.

“Excuse me, professor, but where's Dumbledore?” Sherlock asked in a hushed tone. Many of the other students and teachers had their attention on them and being overheard would only make matters worse.

“Professor Dumbledore is conducting business at the Ministry of Magic.” McGonagall answered and she watched the trio as they exchanged alarmed looks. “What reason could you have for wanting to see him that would justify running?”

“It's about Jennifer Wilson, professor.” John spoke this time, perhaps thinking that since he was in the Transfiguration teacher's house, she would be less sharp with him. Upon mention of Jennifer's name, the thin witch abruptly stood up.

“You three had better come with me.” She gave no more detail than that and they were left to follow her and wonder what she was going to say to them. As they exited the Great Hall, the other students who'd been watching them began to murmur to one another and that did nothing to calm the three first years' nerves. Once they were sitting in the privacy of McGonagall's office, the feeling only intensified. “Now, whatever you've got to say about Jennifer Wilson can be said to me.” None of them said a word in response. “Well, out with it. It must be important if it required dashing about.”

“Professor, we think we know who poisoned Jennifer.” John admitted. The sharp featured witch's eyes widened.

“Who, then?”

“Professor Hope, ma'am.”

“Mr. Watson, that is a very serious accusation. How have the three of you managed to come to such a conclusion?” The trio shared a few uncertain glances before Sherlock answered.

“We have reason to believe that Jennifer was coming from Hope's office before she collapsed and that he has a vial of poison in the lower right drawer of his desk.”

“And you'd rather not say how you came by this information?”

“Yes, but we promise we wouldn't say anything to you unless we truly believed it.” Molly and John could hear how much effort Sherlock had put into making that statement sound as sincere as possible. McGonagall seemed to take a minute to consider these words and she sat back in her chair once she arrive at a consensus.

“Very well, I will see the matter looked into, but in the mean time, I want you to promise me that you will not speak of this to any but myself and the headmaster. You must understand that this is an extremely serious issue.”

“We promise, professor,” Molly replied with a little reaffirming nod.

“You're free to go, then.” With that, they hurried out of McGonagall's office and down to the library.

“We'll, that went better than expected,” Molly commented optimistically.

“No, I would say it went considerably worse than we'd hoped,” Sherlock shot back grimly, earning him a look of hurt from the Hufflepuff, but he brushed it off. “McGonagall won't take immediate action like Dumbledore would. That'll give Hope time to catch on and dispose of his incriminating evidence. On top of that, he'll be able to figure out that we're the ones who are onto him, if he hasn't already.”

“Well, when you put it like that...” John trailed off when Molly put her face in her hands. “Molly, are you okay?”

“I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm just...keeping myself steady,” she responded carefully. “What do we do?”

“Right now, there's nothing we can do but wait.” And so they did. It was probably the most nerve wracking few months of Molly Hopper's life thus far. It got to the point where she had to brew herself some Calming Draught two weeks before final exams. Professor McGonagall by then had told them that she'd found no poison in Hope's office and that made it clear that the DADA teacher knew they had found him out. It was only a matter of time before he would confront them. Their fears were realized when Hope informed them that they would be taking their final exam in his office after dinner. Before going that evening, they met up in the abandoned classroom to discuss what was about to happen. “Either we'll just take our exams and be on our way, or he's got something planned for us. We have to be on alert at all times. No else will be around, so it'll be an opportune moment for him to strike.” Sherlock explained.

“I don't understand why we can't just tell somebody about all of this. Dumbledore's been back for a good long while.” John complained. Even he, who was stone faced and unyielding in the face of adversity, was rattled by this situation.

“We've been over this a thousand times, John. The proof has been removed. Even Dumbledore can't do anything without any proof. Anyone else will think we're trying to get out of our exams.” Sherlock countered. Molly said nothing and began to look a little ill.

“What if he tries to kill us?”

“Seeing as we're a bunch of first years and he's an experienced adult, I think the best thing we can do is scream bloody murder and hope someone hears before he can end our lives.”

“We're gonna die,” John moaned and Sherlock rolled his eyes.

“Honestly, John, it's not as if we're completely defenseless. I'm certain that I'm cleverer than Professor Hope and we have enough spells under our belts to put up a fight. Anyway, he might do nothing after all and we'll only be treated to another look around his office.” This was met by silence from the other two, who didn't seem much comforted by Sherlock's words. John glanced at his watch announced that they had better go. If their first trip to Hope's office had felt like a death march to Molly, this was ten times worse. Still, she tried to keep a brave face and a steady gait. Before they went into the office, she took a deep breath, preparing herself for the sight of the calculating little eyes behind those thick glasses...only no one was there. The room was devoid of Professor Hope when they came in. Sherlock, being who he was, saw this as an opportunity to find more information, so instead of taking a seat at one of the three little desks that had been crammed into the space, he began to poke around Hope's things.

“Sherlock! Are you mad?! He might walk in any minute!” John hissed, but the Ravenclaw ignored him and instead examined what appeared to be a framed photo.

“Interesting...” he muttered.

“Sherlock...” Molly spoke in a very uneasy tone. She was getting one of her little bursts of intuition; she could feel it. “Sherlock...” She was louder and more panicked now, but Sherlock continued to be enraptured by the photo. John, who had been listening at the door, suddenly became frantic.

“He's coming!” This startled Sherlock into dropping the picture and dragging his friends with him under the large desk in complete panic. They huddled together, arms wrapped around each other, and went still when they heard the door open and close. There was a long moment of total silence that was broken by Professor Hope's voice.

“I know you're here. Come out, come out, wherever you are...” he called in a slow, staccato voice. The three children remain silent, even going so far as to hold their breath. Without warning, the seemed to explode around them in a flurry of wood splinters, glass, and parchment, leaving them covered in cuts and bits of desk. They let out cries of terror and huddled closer. “Well, if it isn't my star firsties. What were you doing under there? It's time for your exam.” The old man shuffled into their fields or vision wearing a pleasant expression that couldn't be defined as anything but creepy. Sherlock whipped out his wand, but Hope kicked it out of his hand. “I see we have a volunteer to go first.” The man grabbed Sherlock by the back of his collar and yanked him from John and Molly. The Gryffindor reached for his wand, but once again, Hope was faster, firing a stunning spell strong enough to knock the boy back into a large stack of books. Molly shrieked and trembled, but didn't move to defend her friends when Sherlock shot her a look that told her to stay put. “Now, this is how the test works.” Hope began, taking two little bottles from his pockets and setting them next to each other. They both contained a colourless liquid and Sherlock's eyes went wide. “One is poison. The other isn't. You have to figure out which one's the good bottle. You choose and I'll take the other one as you take yours. Either you die or you pass your Defense Against the Dark Arts exam with flying colours.” Sherlock neither said nor did anything in response. He only stood and stared up at the teacher blankly. “Well, off you go. See if you can outwit me.” Hope urged. Sensing that there would be consequences if he didn't make a choice, Sherlock looked at the bottles carefully.

Molly watched in stunned silence, wondering if this was really happening. She looked over at John, who was unmoving under a pile of heavy books. That sight triggered something inside her that caused a pulse of orange light come off her and knock down Hope. Sherlock dove for his wand and Molly scrambled to her feet, scrambling to draw her own wand. As she made to disarm Hope, he knocked her legs out from under her and pointed his wand at her tie. It constricted around her throat before Sherlock could cast a spell of his own.

“Now, make a choice.” Hope told him, picking the bottles up from the floor as he stood up. “Better hurry up. Ms. Hooper is suffocating.”

“Do-Don't...Sher-...Don-...Sherlock...” the Hufflepuff girl begged before she passed out.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, the bitter taste of a cliffhanger. But don't worry, I'm hoping to have the next chapter to you soon. It will end out year one (finally) and I will give a hint as to the major arc in year two at the end. Also, sorry if my Czech is a bit off. I always get tripped up on case and idiom. Feel free to correct me. Anyway, thanks for reading.


	8. Leaving Home for Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hullo! I'm rather delighted to be able to bring you this chapter so quickly after the last one. It's a tad short, but I didn't see much point in dragging things out. Enjoy!
> 
> WARNING: This chapter contains the kind of fluff that makes people want to cry.

Molly Hooper woke up to find herself lying in a hospital bed. The sun was shining and she heard two young male voices talking. Everything was blurry until she rubbed her eyes, her movements slow due to her brain being addled with sleep. Her joints ached with stiffness and she could feel the dull sting of the small cuts on her forearms and the right side of her face. The voices grew louder and two familiar faces came into view.

"Took you long enough," Sherlock Holmes said with a smirk. He and John Watson sat on Molly's bed on either side of her, looking down at her with happiness shining in their eyes.

"Give her a break, Sherlock. Someone tried to kill her." John playfully scolded. The blond's left arm was in a sling and his right wrist was bandaged. Sherlock seemed undamaged beyond a few cuts and scrapes that appeared to be healing.

"Wha-" Molly tried to speak, but she ended up coughing a lot.

"Don't strain yourself, Ms. Hooper," Madam Pomfrey called from the other end of the room. John handed Molly the goblet of pumpkin juice from her bedside table and she gulped it down.

"What happened?" she managed, her voice hoarse. Sherlock launched into a long and detailed explanation of how she'd passed out and he'd grabbed one of the bottles, but before he and Hope could drink, Professor Flitwick came bursting in and disarmed Hope. "But why would Hope do all of this?" Molly asked after Sherlock had finished describing the Charms teacher's spectacular entrance.

"His daughter, Rachel. She was in the portrait on his desk. She was killed in an accident a few years ago and he couldn't cope, so he sought revenge on the world by attempting to murder someone else's daughter. She's the reason we're alright. Her portrait self didn't like what her father was doing, so she ran out of her picture to one in Flitwick's office and told him what was happening." Sherlock seemed entirely too excited by all of this for someone who very well could have died.

"He's been arrested, by the way. And Dumbledore awarded each of us fifty points. And we've been given Os on our DADA exams. I guess you can't do much better in the subject than catching an actual criminal." John put in with a big grin.

"You should have seen Gregson's face. I thought he was going to hex us when Mr. Wilson skipped over him to shake my and John's hands," Sherlock giggled, eliciting a smile from Molly. She let out a sigh of relief, glad that this was all over and content to have her two closest friends here with her. No more exams. No more sneaking about. Just them three and the time they had left before the summer holidays.

As soon as she was released from Madam Pomfrey's care, they went down to the Black Lake. Molly lay down on the beach and took off her shoes and socks, enjoying the feeling of the sun on her face and the cool water lapping over her feet. The boys sat beside her, making shapes in the gravelly sand and grumbling about how Slytherin had taken the Quidditch Cup and would probably get the House Cup too. Molly didn't care. She was content with her life in this moment. It wasn't as if Hufflepuff ever won anything anyway.

"Mycroft's sent you a letter. I've been holding onto it for you." Sherlock drew an envelope from the inside of his jumper and handed it to Molly.

"Oh! Thank you." She broke the seal and unfolded the parchment inside, reading it aloud as she'd become accustomed to doing whenever she opened a letter in the presence of Sherlock and John.

_Dear Ms. Hooper,_

_Congratulations on the success of the investigation you took part in along with my brother and Mr. Watson. I knew Aurors were barking up the wrong tree in thinking that Jennifer Wilson's poisoning had anything to do with her father, who I'm sure you know by now is a prominent Ministry official. You have sparked a little reform in the Auror Office as it was rather embarrassing for them (and admittedly rather amusing for me) to be outdone by three twelve year olds. You need not worry about any unwanted attention from the press. You will only be mentioned as anonymous students._

_On a less sensational note, I trust that you all have done well in your examinations. Please inform my dear brother that if he receives anything less than Os and Es, there will be unpleasantness waiting for him at home._

_Speaking of which, I will be waiting for you both at King's Cross Station when the Hogwarts Express arrives in London. We will then return you to the girls' home. I am working on relocating you as that place is unsuitable for any child to be brought up in, but such a thing is rather difficult at present and I am legally required to take you back there. You have my sincerest apologies._

_See you soon,_

_Mycroft Holmes_

"It sounds like he's been promoted," Sherlock commented casually as he tossed a pebble far out into the water. The other two didn't bother asking how he could tell.

"Why's it so hard to get me out of Mrs. Digby's home?" Molly asked with a frown.

"Probably some bigoted bureaucracy nonsense."

"Actually, it's a bit more complicated than that," John chimed in, much to the surprise of his friends. "My mum works with Muggle related stuff and she tells me about it all the time. Apparently it's very hard to put someone who was born in the Muggle world in the care of a wizarding family because according to the Ministry of Magic, that person didn't exist on parchment in our world until shortly before they came to Hogwarts. They have no record of where and to whom you were born in addition to the fact that whatever Muggle currently holds your guardianship would have to be dealt with. There is a lot of confusing paperwork involved that's even more difficult to surpass than it otherwise would be because of all the blood purists in the Ministry." Sherlock and Molly gaped at this, never having expected John to know so much about such a topic. The top of the blond's ears went a little pink when he registered the looks on his friends' faces.

"I believe that was just the longwinded version of what I said," Sherlock told him flippantly, being less rude than John had anticipated.

"I think it's nice that Mycroft is trying," Molly said as she tucked the letter back into its envelope. Sherlock rolled his eyes, forever exasperated by her optimism.

They remained on the beach for a few more hours before they went in and started the long process of packing their things. To Molly, it seemed as if she had blinked and suddenly she was sitting at the End of Year Feast, fiddling with her pointy hat and listening to Dumbledore's speech.

"Another year ends and we find ourselves just a little bit wiser than we were when we arrived in September. One hopes that each of you achieved a goal this year, whether that be making friends or becoming more knowledgeable. Slytherin House has been particularly successful this year, so let's give them a round of applause for winning the House Cup." The headmaster paused to lead the hall of students and teachers in clapping for Slytherin. Those clad in green were particularly boisterous in their celebration, while the others gave only polite applause, as expected. "Yes, well done, Slytherin." The hall quieted down and Dumbledore went on. "Now, we must also acknowledge the accomplishments of the other houses, who though they did not win the most points, each produced students of outstanding character and ability. I wish to recognize three students in particular, who showed extraordinary intellect, dedication, and bravery in the face of a most dangerous situation. Will Sherlock Holmes, Molly Hooper, and John Watson please step forward?" Molly gave a start at the sound of her name. She looked to Meena, who was wearing an expression of astonished glee.

"Go on!" she encouraged, nudging a stunned Molly. The first year awkwardly got to her feet and joined Sherlock and John in front of the staff table. Their peers cheered loudly for them and she felt her face grow warm. She glanced around at Professor Sprout, who seemed to be clapping particularly enthusiastically, causing her flyaway brown hair to bounce atop her head. At this, Molly couldn't help but grin.

"Thank you for all that you have done." Dumbledore told them with a warm smile and the hall grew quiet again. The three children were allowed to go back to their seats. "Now that we've given the outstanding their due, let's quiet our grumbling bellies." With that, the tables filled with food and the hall erupted in the sounds of chatter and clicking utensils. Molly turned her head towards the Ravenclaw table to see Victor Trevor ruffling Sherlock's curls and laughing. A look to the Gryffindor table showed her John playfully punching Greg Lestrade in the shoulder. That feeling of contentment she'd experienced on the beach returned, but it was short lived. Soon, she'd be leaving and that filling her with an acute sadness. It grew stronger when she was finally standing in Hogsmeade Station, looking back at the school in the distance. As far as she was concerned, this was her home, not that miserable excuse for an orphanage. Here, she was happy. Here, she had friends and access to thousands of interesting books. Here, there were wondrous things to learn and exciting (albeit dangerous) things to do. At Mrs. Digby's place, there was nothing but awful people and the noise of London. But she was going back to the girls' home whether she wanted to or not, so there really wasn't much use in dwelling on it. She would have to rough it through the summer and cling to the dream of Hogwarts.

"Come on, Molly." John's voice and his tugging at her sleeve shook her from her sorrowful thoughts. He helped her lift her trunk onto the train and up onto the shelf in their compartment with Sherlock, who was stretched out across one side with Basil on his stomach. As the train got going, they took their seats opposite him. "So, any plans for the summer?" the blond asked, clearly directing the question more towards Sherlock than Molly, who was unlikely to be doing anything interesting during the summer holidays.

"I'm going to be spending July in the south of France with Greataunt Vernet. She teaches at Beauxbatons Academy and will most likely spend half our time there talking about how wonderful the place is as a passive aggressive way of complaining that I wasn't sent there for school. She may consider herself French, but she's still remarkably English in her manner," Sherlock drawled, sounding incredibly bored by the very anticipation of it. "I'd much rather be off to Gran's in Edinburough. At least there I wouldn't have to speak formal French at the dinner table and I'd be allowed to sit on the garden wall."

"God, you really were raised posh, weren't you?" This earned John a blank stare of 'Why are you stating something obvious?' from Sherlock. He didn't seem to pick up on the fact that John had meant to be derogatory. "Well, I'll probably be spending most of my time playing rugby with my Muggle mates. I'll write to both of you every now and again," John told them with a sigh. The other boy rolled his eyes and stared up at the ceiling. He didn't understand why anyone would bother with such a boring Muggle game, even after John had explained it to him. "An occasional reply wouldn't go amiss," John added, shooting a glare at Sherlock, but he was ignored, since Sherlock had tuned him out after he'd uttered the word rugby. Molly took Basil to hold and pet him. It was a balm to her anxious thoughts. The boys were talking about what they'd be doing with their free time while she would have liked nothing better than to go straight back to Hogwarts. Judging from the way Sherlock glanced at her, this was the reason he did not object to having his mouse taken from him. John seemed to catch on with how quiet she was being and changed the subject. The mood in the compartment became much lighter after that. Sherlock bought them a mountain of sweets and Molly stowed away most of her share so she'd have some to cheer herself up at the girls' home later. John challenged himself to eating ten Every Flavour Beans at once and was surprisingly okay afterwards. Sherlock got a Morgana card in his Chocolate Frog, which he casually tossed to Molly.

It seemed like far too little time had passed when Molly found herself standing in King's Cross Station. Basil had by then been placed in Sherlock's blazer pocket and they'd pulled their trunks out onto the platform and onto trollies. Before John could run off to find his sister and mother, Molly pulled the boys into a tight embrace.

"I'm going to miss you both ever second," she murmured to them as she struggled to hold back tears. John warmly returned the gesture while Sherlock awkwardly patted her shoulder and just sort of let her hug him.

"We'll miss you too, Molly. Won't we, Sherlock?"

"Erm...yes. We will."

"We'll write everyday. Won't we, Sherlock?" Said curly haired twelve year old was saved from having to answer this question by the appearance of his elder brother.

"Ah, there you two are." The statement announced the arrival of Mycroft Holmes, who towered over them and gave off the air of a man in his fifties despite being at the fresh age of eighteen. Molly hastily stepped back from her friends and wiped her eyes, pretending that she hadn't just been about to cry. "And you must be Mr. Watson. I'm Mycroft Holmes, the elder of this one." The young man addressed John while he pointed to Sherlock.

"Pleasure to finally meet you, Mr. Holmes," John replied, shaking Mycroft's hand. The man gave him a polite smile, which he seemed rather taken aback by. Sherlock had never described his brother as being this cordial.

"Likewise. Now, we must be off. I have to be back at the Ministry soon. Good day." With that, Mycroft put his arms around Sherlock and Molly's shoulders to guide them through the barrier and out into the car park of King's Cross. There was a car waiting for them just like the one Molly had been taken in so many months ago. She now understood the meaning of the enormous M on the side. This was a Ministry car. A little smile graced her lips as she recalled Sherlock's laughter when she'd asked him if the M stood for Mycroft. She climbed into the back seat, followed by Sherlock, and as usual, Mycroft sat across from them. The brothers began bickering about something or other and Molly turned her attention out the window to look at London passing by. They were at the door of Mrs. Digby's far too soon for Molly's taste. Mycroft stood with her as she rang the doorbell, probably to make sure the awful woman wouldn't hit her on sight. Mrs. Digby wore a heavy scowl when she opened up and they were struck by the stench of the place. Funny how one never realizes how dreadful a place smells until one has been away.

"Back, are you?" she growled, not standing aside to let them in. Molly was suddenly grateful that Sherlock had declined to come with them because he most likely would have set about making crass deductions that only would put out the matron further.

"Is this not her legal home?" Mycroft asked, sounding almost hopeful. Mrs. Digby eyed him warily before stepping aside. "Thank you." He helped Molly lift her trunk up the stairs, drawing his wand to straighten the crooked banister as he went, which elicited a most frightened reaction from the matron. Molly giggled a little under her breath and it did not go unnoticed by Mycroft, who gave her a small, genuine smile. "You could always threaten to do more colourful things if she ever tries to hurt you. I have a feeling the words alone would be enough," he suggested as he watched Molly slide her trunk under her bed. Other girls peered in at them from the doorway of the room, whispering to each other. "Oh, and one more thing." From his pocket, he drew a small box which he handed to the girl. She opened it to find a thick stack of Chocolate Frog Cards. "Sherlock tells me you enjoy those. I was never much of a collector myself, but those are most of the ones that did remain in my possession. I think they are better served in your hands," he explained and without warning, Molly threw her arms around him in a tight hug.

"Thank you so much. For everything."

"Yes, um...you're welcome." The wizard gave her an awkward pat on the head before she stepped away. "Farewell, Ms. Hooper." And just like that, he was off down the stairs at out the door. Molly watched the Ministry car drive away and she could have swore she saw Sherlock looking out the back window at her, but she blinked and the car was gone around the corner. Sitting down her bed, she took a closer look at the cards she'd been given. Right on top, Helga Hufflepuff smiled sympathetically up at her. Maybe this summer wouldn't be as terrible as Molly had feared.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End Year One. Hint for the major arc of Year Two: water. Once I've dealt with midterms, I'll be on track to bring you the next chapter soon.


	9. Summer Ennui and the Prospect of a New Year

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Voila! Second year is here!
> 
> WARNING: This chapter contains brief and vague discussion of child death.

No one ever spoke to the girl who sat on the bench in the back of the garden at Digby's Home for Orphaned Girls. They avoided her for she was strange and they'd been warned that she and the thin rod of golden wood she carried were dangerous. Her name was Molly Hooper and she couldn't care less that the other girls now kept their distance from her. She actually preferred it this way because she didn't have to hear what hurtful things they whispered about her and she could go about her business in peace. Her business, as it so happened, was studying magic, or rather, doing homework for the classes she took at a school for young witches and wizards like herself. She enjoyed school, unlike many of her peers, which was probably due to the fact that she was a Muggleborn and found magic wondrous while others had grown up with it. For that reason, she could be found during the day in the bench under the shade of the tree in the back garden, a stack of books and parchment sheets beside her.

Today, Molly was finishing up her Potions essay. It was one of her favourite subjects and she hoped that Professor Slughorn wouldn't mind her writing in fountain pen, since a quill and ink bottle would have drawn unwanted attention. She'd just been putting down her final period in triumph when she heard a screeching of tires and the scream of a young girl. Molly's pen made an ugly black mark across the page as she was startled to her feet. Quickly assessing that scream had come from behind her, she scrambled to push aside the grubby loose panel in the fence and go through to the street on the other side. There she found a stunned group of orphans who'd been playing, a car, and girl on the ground by the car. Molly ran to the fallen girl without even thinking and there was blood, but it didn't bother Molly. What grabbed her attention were the frightened, staggering breaths.

“Becca? Becca! Help! Help!” Molly cried out, taking hold of the girl's hand to comfort her. The driver got out of his car, looking horrified. One of the girls standing nearby had sense enough to run back inside and call 999, but it was far too late. Becca's eyes clouded over before the ambulance could arrive. Molly didn't let go until the paramedics told her to and then she went back inside the fence without saying a single word to anyone, collected her things, and went up to her room. Attention was definitely not what she wanted right now. She wasn't traumatized, really. She just felt odd. This wasn't like when she found dead animals in the street. Everything had happened so fast and she'd seen a human life end. How strange it was that she didn't feel the urge to cry. She only felt glad that she'd brought Becca comfort in her last moments. If the others already thought she was odd, they would soon see her as a total freak for this. She honestly couldn't blame them. She didn't suppose it was considered normal to be completely okay after seeing death.

Molly looked at her essay and the mark across the page and sighed, going to dig the ink erasing solution that Meena had given her out of the depths of her trunk. She might as well get on with life. She was midway through fixing her essay when something large swooped in through the window. Looking around in surprise, Molly saw that Mycroft Holmes' Great Horned Owl, Diogenes, was perched imperiously on the end rail of her bed and had dropped a letter at her side. The girl smiled at the grumpy bird and reached out to stroke his dark brown back feathers.

“Thank you, Diogenes. You look tired. Mycroft must keep you busy all the time.” The owl blinked at Molly and a gave a little chirp in response. She turned her attention to the letter, which looked exactly the same as all the other letters she'd every received from Mycroft, with its blue wax seal and neat handwriting. Eagerly, she opened it to read:

 

_Dear Ms. Hooper,_

 

_I hope that your summer has been peaceful thus far. I cannot say so about the Holmes family. Sherlock accidentally set our greataunt's hat afire and as a result of other of his troublesome adventures, I had to have a rather embarrassing chat with officials from the French Ministry of Magic. Fortunately, we are back in England now and Sherlock is keeping to his room. I have been rather busy as of late and it is a relief not to have to deal with him in addition to everything else._

_In a couple of weeks, you will likely receive your school letter and we will come get you for a trip to Diagon Alley._

 

_Sincerely,_

 

_Mycroft Holmes_

 

The moment Molly finished reading and giggling over the thought of an old woman with Sherlock's eyes and Mycroft's nose wearing a ridiculous hat which caught fire the moment she took it off, she scrounged up a fresh leaf of parchment and wrote up a quick reply, expressing the dullness of her summer, her polite concern at Sherlock's antics, and her excitement for the new school year. Folding the parchment and addressing it to Mycroft, she gave it to Diogenes and he took off out the window. She watched him go with an almost wistful expression. Couldn't the new school year come a little bit faster? From her pocket she drew her stack of Chocolate Frog Cards. It had hardly been more than a month since she'd gotten them and they were already worn around the edges. She new all the famous wizards' and witches' faces and what they were famous for by heart now, but she still liked to look at them. They reminded her of home- her real home. The strange feeling left in her gut by what had happened outside melted away when she saw Helga Hufflepuff's round face smiling up at her once again.

“I'll be back soon,” Molly muttered to herself before getting back to her Potions essay. The house was awfully quiet and still for the next few days, much to her relief if she was honest. Mrs. Digby was refraining from shouting at the girls and that made it a lot easier for Molly to finish the rest of her homework. As she'd predicted, her lack of melancholy disturbed the others into heightening their aggressiveness and shunning behaviour towards her, but it seemed like being tickled in comparison to the viciousness she'd faced at the hands of Bellatrix Black and her ilk. That was one thing Molly didn't particularly look forward to in returning to the wizarding world. Being a Muggleborn made her a second-class citizen in the eyes of many. On the bright side, there was a Muggleborn Minister of Magic for the first time in history, so maybe magical society was moving in better direction and she was perfectly positioned be among the first to not just see it happen, but help make it happen. That thought brightened her spirit and shut out any dampener that had attempted to enforce itself upon her excitement.

Before long, Molly received her school letter, which contained a list of all the books and supplies she would need for her second year. She positively beamed when she saw that someone had crossed off the Defense Against the Dark Arts book and written a different title, presumably the one assigned to third years. Obviously Dumbledore had decided that she would continue her accelerated path in the subject, despite her original advocate now being a resident of Azkaban.

Soon thereafter, Molly had the pleasure of being given a letter from John by a little fluffy grey screech owl. It read, in the blond boy's overly neat handwriting:

 

_Dear Molly,_

 

_How's your summer been? Not too dreadful, I hope. I would've written a whole lot sooner, but mum's had to use the family owl all the time. I did manage to send off a letter to Sherlock a while back, but he hasn't answered. You haven't gotten anything from him, have you? If I didn't know better, I'd say he'd forgotten us. Not much of a one for letters, I suppose. Never wrote his family at school as far as I know. This is Gladstone, by the way. Mum bought him for me as an early birthday gift. Brilliant, isn't he?_

_Anyway, Harriet has been insufferable (as usual) and most of my Muggle mates went away on holiday, so my summer hasn't been all that exciting. The neighbors took pity on me and brought me along to a football match last week. It was nice, but it would've been better if it had been Quidditch._

_I can't wait to see you and Sherlock again soon. I'm bored to tears at home (oh no, I'm starting to sound like Sherlock, haha) with nothing to do but try to finish all this homework before the start of term._

 

_Best,_

 

_John_

 

_P.S.- Were you assigned the third year DADA book too?_

 

A grin manifested itself on Molly's face as she finished the letter and hurried to write a reply. Gladstone waited patiently, staring up at her in curiosity with his big, pale yellow eyes. He was a cute bird and she was loath to have to send him off, but it was important that John get her letter and have his owl back.

The following morning, Molly was rudely awoken by the sound of Mrs. Digby barking her name and banging loudly on her bedroom door.

“Molly! Get up this instant! Elder Posh has come collect you!” The girl would have giggled at Mrs. Digby's nickname for Mycroft if she wasn't so busy shooting out of her bed and scrambled to get dressed. In ten minutes, she was shoving her wand in the loop she'd sewn to the waist of her skirt and sliding down the railing of the stairs (much to the indignation of Mrs. Digby- she'd be punished later, but she didn't care at the moment). Mycroft stood waiting for her by the door, a faint smile gracing his lips as he watched the matron's face screw up in anger at Molly's display, although it fell when the woman moved to thwack Molly with the newspaper in her hand. He quickly put an arm around her and shifted so that he partially shielded her from Mrs. Digby, tightening his grip on his umbrella. The matron backed off, getting the message. Without another word, the pair exited the building.

“She's been saying all sorts of horrible things about you,” Molly told Mycroft as they approached the car. “And me, but the only new thing about that is that she's after me about being 'unnatural' and 'freakish' more than anything.”

“I would expect no less from such a repulsive, ignorant woman. How she was ever given permission to preside over an orphanage may just be one of the greatest mysteries of the age.” Mycroft replied blithely as he opened the car door for her. She giggled and climbed inside, overjoyed to find herself seated beside her dear friend.

“Hello, Sherlock!” she greeted cheerfully. He simply stared at her for a moment while Mycroft sat down across from them, as per usual.

“Auntie Vernet's hat,” he finally deadpanned and Molly couldn't help but let out a laugh. The boy smirked at his brother, who scowled. “Told you she'd find it funny.”

“Sorry! Sorry!” Molly apologized, realizing she'd just laughed at the thought of their greataunt's hat catching fire and that would probably offend Mycroft. She half expected the older Holmes to reprimand her for encouraging Sherlock's mischief, but he said nothing. Her gaze drifted over to the place next to him and she was a bit surprised to see a girl sitting there silently, watching them with interest.

“Ms. Hooper, this is Soo Lin Yao. She's an exchange student from China.” Mycroft explained.

“That's brilliant! Lovely to meet you, Soo Lin.” Molly extended her hand for the other girl to shake. Soo Lin smiled and happily accepted it.

“Sherlock has told me much about you.”

“Has he?” Molly looked to her friend in surprise. He was staring determinedly out the window of the car. A little bit of pink crept into her cheeks and she found herself looking out the opposite window. The rest of the car ride was filled with an awkward silence that no one, not even Mycroft, made any attempt to break.

A shiver went down Molly's spine as they stepped out in front of the Leaky Cauldron. A year ago, this had been the moment she'd been confirmed as belonging in the magical world. She suspected this feeling wouldn't fade too much in the coming years and that made her smile. The children followed Mycroft through the building to the back, where they once again witnessed the marvel of the brick wall shifting to reveal Diagon Alley. Soo Lin didn't seem quite as impressed as Molly had been the first time. She stepped right through as if it were the most natural thing in the world. As they walked down the crowded street, Molly wondered what it would have been like to grow up with all of this, to see all of this as normal. Her fantasy was disrupted by Mycroft speaking.

“We'll get Ms. Yao's wand first. That shouldn't take too much time. Then we will be going to Madam Malkin's. I'd rather not do business with Twillfit and Tattings anymore.” This statement succeeded in drawing a thoroughly shocked expression from Sherlock, which in itself was alarming for Molly.

“Why not?” she asked, frowning in confusion.

“The proprietors of that establishment hold views that are no longer excusable to the Holmes family.” Mycroft explained tersely. It sounded like he was stating official policy and it occurred to Molly that an old pureblood family like the Holmeses would probably conduct their affairs this way sometimes. With that in mind, Molly followed the eldest Holmes child to Ollivander's, doing her best to keep up with his brisk stride. At least Soo Lin was struggling as much as she was. Sherlock didn't seem to care and was lagging behind.

“Ah, Mr. Holmes. Back again so soon? I hope there aren't any unfortunate circumstances to your visit.” Mr. Ollivander greeted them, looking just as excitable as he had a year ago. Mycroft gave his usual polite smile in return.

“All is well. We're just popping in to buy Ms. Yao here one of your fine wands.” This prompted the wandmaker's stunning blue eyes to fall on the dark haired girl beside Molly. He beamed at her warmly and beckoned for her to come stand beside his desk. As she did as requested, the man climbed up his little latter and filled his arms with boxes. Her eyes widened a little as she watched him stack them on his desk. The first few she tried did nothing and they were summarily snatched from her grasp. A long, dark one sent out a jet of flame that came dangerously close to setting one of the shelves alight. This too was taken from her hands. A rather beautiful white one did nothing at first, but then emitted a series of bangs and bursts of sparks. The stack of boxes was almost exhausted by the time they hit on the right one. It was a richly coloured wand of an elegant design that produced twinkling blue mist when Soo Lin waved it.

“Ah, there we are. Elm, 10 ¾ inches, phoenix feather, rather springy. The wand of a very respectable, talented witch, Ms. Yao. May it bear you to good fortune.”

“Thank you, Mr. Ollivander,” the girl replied, looking absolutely delighted. Mycroft paid for the wand without comment and they were soon off to make other purchases. After getting robes for Soo Lin (Sherlock and Molly had yet to grow enough to require new ones themselves), they went to a dimly lit shop that was filled with hooting owls, yowling cats, and various other creatures.

“Pick something,” Mycroft told Soo Lin, who became even more pleased than she already was. He caught Molly eyeing a little tabby kitten longingly and sighed. “I would extend the same offer to you, Ms. Hooper, but I'm sure you'll understand when I say your matron presents problems to such an arrangement.” Molly gave a sad smile and nodded. She knew she wasn't in a position to be caring for a pet. Maybe someday she would be, though, so she put on a brave face and went over to see what Soo Lin was looking at. A little barn owl was looking down at her in curiosity with its big dark eyes.

“Manyue Lian,” Soo Lin murmured and the bird chirped as if it was answering her. She grinned.

“What does it mean?” Molly asked, having heard the other girl's utterance.

“Moon face. I think I will call her Yue for short.” They both giggled and Myroft, who was standing behind them, rolled his eyes. Five minutes later, they had exited the shop, Soo Lin with Yue in her cage. Sherlock didn't seem entirely pleased by Yue. Apparently he didn't like the idea of yet another owl about who might take to seeing Basil as a potential meal. His mood was improved when Mycroft announced that they were finally going to Flourish and Blotts, where books of every shape, size, and subject could be found. It was possibly Molly's favourite shop, not just because it was a place for books, but because it _smelled_ of books. The moment she stepped inside the place, she took a deep breath and a content expression settled onto her countenance. By the time she was ready to move on and look for the books she needed, Sherlock was halfway up the stairs on the left, flipping through a tome containing symbols unfamiliar to her. Soo Lin was engrossed in something she'd picked up by the door which appeared to be about magical objects. Molly looked up at Mycroft, who gave her one of his rare genuine smiles.

“I will get your books for you. Don't wander too far.” This was when she learnt about Mycroft's soft spot for young minds seeking knowledge. She remembered Sherlock telling her once that Mycroft had had a row with the Sorting Hat, which had been determined to put him in Slytherin, but he'd insisted on Ravenclaw until it bowed to his will. She could see now that he was right to have done it.

“Thank you!” With that, Molly began scouring the shelves for things she might find interesting. In her excitement, she ran into someone. “Sorry!”

“Oi! Oh, Molly, it's you!” She'd bumped into none other than John Watson, who appeared to be overjoyed to see her. He was a little tan compared to when she'd last seen him and his arms were laden with textbooks.

“Hi, John! Is that the Defense Against the Dark Arts one I see at the bottom there?” Molly inquired pointing at her friend's burden.

“Yeah, and it weighs more than my Aunt Margret. Mind you, she did hard work building planes in the war,” John complained humorously.

“Oh my! Mycroft's going to have to carry two of them in addition to all our other books. Maybe I shouldn't have let him get our books by himself.” Molly worried, looking about for the elder Holmes brother.

“I'm sure he'll manage,” John assured her. “So, where's Sir Doesn't Answer Letters? If you and his brother are here, he must be too.”

“Brilliant deduction,” a voice called from over the railing above them. The pair looked up to Sherlock gazing down at them.

“Really?”

“No, it was painfully obvious,” Sherlock said bluntly and John's face fell.

“Sherlock.” Molly scolded. The curly haired boy quirked an eyebrow and made his way down to them.

“Please train your owl to leave Basil alone. After your last letter, he seemed entirely too interested in my mouse.”

“Oh, so that's why your being like that. Don't worry, I'll make sure Gladstone doesn't touch Basil or even look at him in a suggestive manner.” This prompted giggling from Molly and Soo Lin (who had just now appeared at Molly's side) and a scowl from Sherlock. John's gaze fell on Soo Lin and he gave a slightly confused smile. “Hello?”

“Oh, John, this is Soo Lin Yao. She's an exchange student from China. Soo Lin, this is John Watson. He's our friend from school.”

“Pleasure,” Soo Lin said, shaking John's hand. The boy was properly smiling now, that is, until Sherlock ruined it in his typical fashion.

“Your mother is looking for you at the other end of the shop, John,” he announced. “She seemed rather worried.” John, of course, was not going to keep his mother waiting much longer if she was worried and looking for him.

“Right. I'd better go then. It was nice seeing you. Can't wait to see you all at King's Cross in a couple weeks.”

“Likewise,” Molly told him on both her and Sherlock's behalf (knowing the dark haired boy would say nothing). John rushed off, his gait rather odd due to his book load and having to avoid bumping into the other people in the shop. Watching him go allowed Molly to spot Mycroft, not carrying three stacks of books, but levitating them. Of course he would come up with a simple solution to that problem. Molly was somewhat embarrassed she hadn't thought of it herself until she remembered that she was Muggleborn and thus not privy to thinking of magic in an entirely practical manner yet. Sherlock complained all the way to Florean Fortescue's when Mycroft made them carry their books once they'd left the shop. It only got worse when his brother told him it built character. Mycroft bought them all ice cream, which succeeded in shutting Sherlock up for the time being. The moment turned bittersweet for Molly when she realized that ice cream meant her day in the wizarding world was almost over.

“What's wrong?” Soo Lin asked upon noticing Molly's slightly downcast mood.

“Nothing. It's just that today was lovely and I don't want to go back to the orphanage.”

“It will only be for two weeks. Then you will go to school again. And you have your new books to keep you company in the meantime.” This did succeed in cheering Molly up a bit. The car ride back was quiet, but not in the awkward way it had been before. It was a comfortable silence that spoke of how enjoyable the day had been. By the time the car pulled up outside Mrs. Digby's place, Sherlock looked like he was asleep (although he might not have been- it was always hard to tell) with his head resting against the window. Soo Lin waved goodbye as Mycroft walked Molly to the door. The scrawny girl could barely see the matron over her stack of school things when she opened up and in her humble opinion, that was a good thing. Mycroft stayed for a moment to make sure she made it up the stairs unscathed before taking his leave.

Molly carefully used her elbow to open her bedroom door, still smiling in the afterglow of her excellent day. That joy instantly turned sour when she entered her room to find the place a complete mess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to make this a bit funny to compensate for the dark patches, but I don't know it if that came through. You're welcome to hazard a guess at the main plot for this year given the hint of water. Anyway, thanks for reading!


	10. Touch and Trust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter contains descriptive situations of high anxiety for certain characters.

Molly had only just managed to get all of her things back and her room in order by September 1 st . She could have done it in five minutes with magic, but she was keenly aware that she wasn't allowed to use magic outside of school, so she was forced to fix things by hand. That meant looking everywhere for the things the other girls had nicked out of her trunk and hidden about the property while she'd been off with Soo Lin and the Holmes Brothers. The whole ordeal wouldn't have upset her as much as it had if they hadn't ripped some of her books. She'd have to wait until she was at Hogwarts to repair them and there was something deeply personal about assaulting a person's books in such a manner. It still brought a sheen of moisture to Molly's eyes when she carefully packed the damaged texts into her trunk on the last day of August. That night, she was almost too excited to sleep and as a result, she woke up an hour and a half later than she'd planned.

The house was still quiet when she crept downstairs. Her attempt at stealth was made rather difficult by the fact that the dusty wooden floors creaked with age and disrepair and she was towing a rather large (in proportion to her) trunk. Still, she managed not to wake anyone and even snuck a few stale oatmeal biscuits from the tin in the kitchen for breakfast before she went out to sit on the curb and wait for that Ministry car to show up. While she waited, she wondered what sort of importance Mycroft might have at the Ministry if they let him have a car whenever he needed one. Sherlock had said his brother was a Ministerial Aid and Mycroft had done nothing to disabuse her of that notion, but she got the impression it wasn't quite true. She did remember Sherlock's deduction that Mycroft had been promoted, but that didn't seem to have any bearing on the availability of cars as he'd been using them before he'd been promoted. Sherlock, for all his animosity towards his brother, appeared to be in the know and had been told not to say much about it. That told Molly that Mycroft was  _ very _ important and she laughed to herself. Her friend would be proud of her investigative thinking. Maybe sometime she'd ask Sherlock if she was right.

Before long, Molly spotted the familiar green vehicle rolling down the street. She quickly got up and readied her trunk. When the car pulled up by her, a disgruntled Sherlock was pushed out to help her lift her luggage into the boot. He seemed displeased about more than being forced to assist her, though, and she learnt why when they got in. Basil had been confined to a small cage. From the way the Holmes Brothers were glaring at each other, it seemed pretty obvious that there was an ongoing dispute about it. It didn't help that Soo Lin's owl, Yue, was staring rather longingly at Basil from her own cage. The tension in the car put a bit of a damper on Molly's spirits that wasn't lifted until they'd made it to King's Cross Station.

“Is that...is that a broomstick?” Molly asked, astonished, as she looked over the contents of Sherlock's trolly. He sighed exasperatedly before replying.

“What else could it possibly be?”

“You're trying out for Quidditch, aren't you?” Molly grinned knowingly and Sherlock rolled his eyes. “What position?” The boy ran through the barrier to Platform 9 ¾ before she could get an answer from him.

“Off you go then. Both of you. Or do you want to miss the train?” Mycroft spoke up, making shooing gestures at Molly and Soo Lin. The girls looked at each other, slightly panicked, and ran at the barrier. On the other side, parents were saying goodbye to their children, which told them that the train would be leaving shortly. They hurried to get on and find Sherlock, who had disappeared. They discovered him already in a compartment with John, who was being filled in on the hat fiasco, much to the entertainment of them both. Molly and Soo Lin settled in beside them as John forced Sherlock to pause the story so he could wave goodbye to his mother out the window. The train had just left the station when a banana peel hit the blond full in the face. He angrily swatted it away and made a rude gesture towards someone nearer the front of the train.

“John.” Molly scolded, but she was ignored.

“It's going to be such a relief when she graduates and moves out,” John grumbled as he pulled back inside and shut the window.

“Who?” Soo Lin asked innocently. It was odd how easy it was to forget she hadn't been with them very long and didn't know much about them.

“My sister, Harry.” Soo Lin nodded in comprehension and didn't press for more information. Molly wondered if she had any siblings, but didn't ask because Sherlock had continued with his story unprompted and she didn't want to miss the details of the infamous hat incident. She was so busy laughing that she didn't notice when the sky darkened and it began to rain. It only had the effect of making the compartment feel that much cozier. They all forgot about any agitation they may have felt earlier and Sherlock bought more sweets off the trolly than he could fit in his arms. That was a sign of the positive atmosphere more than anything. Sherlock was often at his most generous when he was happy. They set up a little course on the table with empty wrappers and had a Chocolate Frog herding competition, timed by John's watch, which Sherlock and Soo Lin seemed quite good at, but Molly was terrible because she was too gentle with the frogs and they kept jumping out of the course. She was in the midst of laughing off her latest failure when the door of the compartment slid open to reveal a vaguely familiar blonde girl dressed in shocking shades of pink.

“Excuse me, but I was told Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, and Molly Hooper were in this compartment,” she said somewhat shyly. Sherlock narrowed his eyes at her.

“That'd be us,” John replied after swallowing the remainder of the Chocolate Frog he'd been eating. The girl beamed.

“I'm Jennifer Wilson.” Well, that certainly explained why she seemed so familiar.

“Oh! Hi, how are you?” Molly asked, beaming.

“Much better, thank you. I just wanted to personally express my gratitude for what you all did for me. I tried to fall someplace suspicious and I'm so glad you three found me and were clever enough to figure it out and bring Hope to justice.”

“Well, we couldn't leave it to the incompetent adults, now could we?” Sherlock responded, having apparently completed whatever assessment he'd been making of Jennifer. He tossed a packet of Drooble's Best Blowing Gum to her, obviously deciding that she was worth respecting. She nodded in silent thanks and went on her way. They were then forced to explain to Soo Lin about what had happened the previous year. She took it surprisingly well considering they and Jennifer had had close brushes with death in a place that was supposed to be safe. She was mostly concerned about who this year's Defense Against the Dark Arts professor was.

“We don't know. We'll probably find out when we get to the Great Hall, though. You'll be going in after us since you're a first year.” Molly explained while Sherlock and John attempted to employ Basil in the Chocolate Frog course.

“Why?”

“First years get sorted into their houses. There are four. I'm a Hufflepuff, Sherlock's a Ravenclaw, and John's a Gryffindor.”

“What is the fourth one?”

“Slytherin. People think they're a bunch of bullies and backstabbers, but I think that's unfair. There's nothing wrong with being ambitious or shrewd. That's what makes a person a Slytherin, not being a bad person. If you end up a Slytherin, I want you to know that there's no shame in it, whatever other people might say.”

“She'll be a Ravenclaw,” Sherlock called, apparently having been paying some attention to the girls' conversation. The pair shrugged and started on the Every Flavour Beans.

The rain stopped not long before the train pulled into Hogsmeade Station. Soo Lin separated from the three second years to follow Ogg towards the boats while they head for the carriages everyone else took up to the castle. John spotted Sally, Greg, and a Ravenclaw boy climbing into one and excitedly pulled Sherlock and Molly along to join them. Sherlock seemed particularly reluctant and they found out why when they'd settled in.

“Anderson.” Sherlock acknowledged the other Ravenclaw, his tone dripping with disdain.

“Holmes,” Anderson returned with equal contempt. Greg looked between the two as if he was waiting for one of them to throw the first punch, but nothing happened and the tension in the carriage remained almost thick enough to be cut with a knife. Molly tried and failed to alleviate the situation.

“Interesting horses.”

“Sorry?” Sally responded with a frown.

“You know, the ones pulling the carriages.” Now everyone was looking at her in confusion, even Sherlock.

“Molly, nothing's pulling the carriages. They've always moved by themselves,” Greg told her, brow furrowing. Not understanding, the Hufflepuff poked her head out of the window to look towards the front of the carriage. There they were, in all their dark, skeletal glory: two winged horses.

“What are you on about? They're right there. Great black wings and everything.”

“No, seriously, what are _you_ on about, Molly? Greg's right. There aren't any horses.” John gazed at her with a look of deep concern. She fell silent and let Sally change the subject as she gazed out the window. Was she seeing things? Whatever high spirits she'd been in before vanished as she thought about it. She didn't notice that Sherlock was staring at her, she was so wrapped up in her worrying.

It wasn't long before they arrived at the castle and headed into the Great Hall, donning their pointed black hats and separating out to their house tables. Molly found Meena in her usual spot and smiled as she took the seat beside her.

“Hullo, Molly! How was your summer?”

“I can't say it was the best, but that's sort of to be expected. You?”

“I spent a few weeks in Spain. It was brilliant until we got a letter saying gran was ill and mum insisted that we had to come home.”

“Oh no, I'm sorry to hear that.”

“It's fine. The Healers had gran cleared up in no time.”

“That's good. So what's Spain like?”

“It's the place to be if you like ham and...” Meena trailed off as she caught sight of Professor McGonagall standing by the doors, about to call for quiet in the hall. A look of excitement came across the older girl's features as silence fell and the hat was placed on its stool. Molly could only assume that it was time for the first years to come in and be sorted. All thoughts of the carriage ride were pushed to the back of her mind as she grew excited as well.

The first years filed in and Molly spotted Soo Lin at the very back. She sent the younger girl an encouraging smile. The hat sang a much longer song than last year's, going on in detail about the qualities of each house, even adding in verses about what each house should not be mistaken for. The performance was met with delighted applause which died down once the Deputy Headmistress began calling out names. About two thirds of the way through, two very different girls were sorted into Ravenclaw, one after the other, which illustrated the point the Hat had been trying to make.

“Sinistra, Aurora,” McGonagall called and a pretty girl with a very serene manner made her way up to the stool. Only a few seconds after the hat had been placed on her head, it proclaimed her a Ravenclaw. “Trelawney, Sybill,” was called and an exceptionally thin girl with frizzy hair stepped forward, adjusting her thick, round rimmed glasses nervously. A few students whispered to each other, her name apparently being vaguely familiar. The Hat took much longer with Sybill. A whole minute passed before she was declared a Ravenclaw and was allowed to hurry over to the house's table. Molly noticed that she'd taken the open seat beside Sherlock, who didn't appear to object, prompting the Hufflepuff to smile to herself.

Soo Lin was the very last to be sorted and just as Sherlock had predicted, she was placed in Ravenclaw. Molly looked over to him to see his reaction. He seemed rather pleased with himself, smirking and welcoming Soo Lin to the table. Victor Trevor, who sat on Sherlock's other side, ruffled the boy's dark hair affectionately. Shortly thereafter, Dumbledore began his speech.

“Welcome to another year at Hogwarts. It is time for you to refill your brains with knowledge after the long period you've had to forget it all. I must of course remind you that the forest is out of bounds to all students, due to the dangers that lie within. Mr. Pringle's list of forbidden objects continues to be rather compelling, this year with the addition of Exploding Quill Nibs.” There was scattered giggling at this which brought a smile to the Headmaster's face. “I hope you all will join me in welcoming Professor Prince, our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.” A middle aged witch of plump proportions and a heavily made up face stood from her seat at the staff table and received more enthusiastic applause than one might expect.

“Why're people so excited about her?” Molly whispered to Meena.

“That's Connie Prince! She writes a very popular fashion column for the Daily Prophet. She's travelled all over the world and seen all sorts of things we could only dream of,” Meena practically squealed. Molly wondered what exactly made Ms. Prince qualified to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts. Her question was answered quickly enough when classes began.

She and Sherlock were scheduled to take Defense Against the Dark Arts with the third year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws and were thus able to experience class with Professor Prince before John. Many of their classmates were jittery with anticipation when they first sat down, but this waned slightly when Prince was five minutes late. She came in wearing a big smile and silk robes that were probably worth more than all of Molly's possessions and cost of adoption combined.

“Open your books and read pages 12-40,” she announced after doing roll call. Sherlock and Molly looked at each other in exasperation and grudgingly pulled their books from their bags. They'd both already read the first few chapters of the text and were therefore in for a period of utter boredom.

“What's your assessment so far?” Molly wrote on a leaf of parchment and slid over to Sherlock. He quirked a dark eyebrow at her and scribbled his reply.

“Only one who would take the job. Doing this for publicity. No real qualifications.” Molly read this and let out a long sigh. She noticed that Professor Prince was slowly walking about the classroom of silently reading students, making some sort of notes on a steno pad. It became clear exactly what she was doing when she stopped beside Jennifer Wilson (who was repeating third year after having missed so much of it the first time) and scrutinized the enormous bright pink ribbon that tied her blonde hair. The tutting noise Prince made seemed to upset Jennifer, who hastily wiped at her eyes and sniffled. Both Sherlock and Molly pretended to read as the woman eventually made her way over to them. She carried with her a strong scent of exotic, expensive perfume that made Molly's eyes water with the effort of resisting the desire to cough. Sherlock's entire body tensed and his eyes went wide with a cocktail of unpleasant emotions when Prince gently plucked at the curls which were long enough to brush the back of his collar. Molly could not find it in herself to resist the urge to glare daggers at the teacher as she put down quite a lot about whatever she was thinking on that notepad of hers.

“Are you okay?” Molly wrote once Professor Prince had moved on. Sherlock clearly felt violated and Molly didn't blame him one bit. He didn't answer her, which told her all she needed to know. He didn't speak a word again until after dinner that evening when John suggested they go and have a swim in the Black Lake. “Oh, I don't know, John. I can't swim.” Molly objected anxiously.

“You can be taught,” Sherlock commented, much to the surprise of his friends.

“Yeah, we'll teach you, Molly. Come on.” The girl was too delighted that Sherlock's mood had improved to say no. She donned her house issued swimsuit and met up with the boys just outside the oak front doors of the castle. The breeze was warm and Molly savored the feeling of it blowing through her hair, knowing it wouldn't be long before autumn came with a chill. They made their way down to the lake and stripped to their swimwear. Before now, Molly had never realized just how pale and skinny Sherlock was. She could easily see his ribcage (she was one to talk, being just as pale and skinny herself). John had a much more robust figure and waded into the water with confidence. Sherlock followed silently and John turned to beckon to Molly. “Come on, then. Don't be afraid. The water isn't too cold and we're right here with you,” he urged. Cautiously, she stepped into the water, nearly jumping out again at the temperature. She waded in far enough for her shoulders to be just below the surface and marveled at the slightly weightless sensation it provided. Relaxing a little, she reminded herself that she was okay and that this was actually kind of fun now.

“Lean forward and try to make yourself horizontal,” Sherlock instructed, swimming up to Molly. Anxiously, she did as he suggested and soon found herself completely submerged. Panicking, she scrambled to bring her head above the surface. John's hands grasped her shoulders firmly and stabilized her.

“It's alright. I've got you,” the blond told her, seeing how shaken she was. “Do you want to try again?” After allowing herself a moment to calm down and wipe water from her eyes, she nodded.

“Try to arch your back more this time.” Molly followed Sherlock's instruction and was surprised to find him holding tightly to her waist to support her. She knew he was very sensitive about contact with people. The events earlier in the day were proof enough of that. The fact that he felt comfortable enough with her to do this for her gave her the confidence boost she needed. Within a half an hour, she learnt to swim competently and was rather enjoying herself, all anxiety forgotten. That is, until something touched her legs. A shrill scream ripped from her throat and she kicked backwards, grabbing onto a shocked John's arm and drawing her wand from the holster strapped to her thigh.

“Molly! What is it?! What's happened?!”

“Something touched me!”

“It's just a little squid,” Sherlock called. Molly could practically hear the eyeroll in his voice. She looked around to see him pointing somewhere a few feet from her. Sure enough, a little squid no larger than a shoe squirted along near the surface.

“Aw, it's so cute!” Molly proclaimed, her fear vanishing in an instant. She put away her wand and approached the tiny creature, much to the astonishment of her friends, particularly John, whose eyebrows had shot up the moment the word 'cute' had come out of her mouth. “It was probably just saying hi. I must have startled it a bit, flailing about like that.” The squid circled her and she giggled.

“That is not a reaction you would expect someone to have to a squid,” John commented and Sherlock laughed heartily. Before long, it started to grown dark and the three of them agreed that they'd best head back inside, though Molly was a little reluctant to leave her new aquatic friend. Sherlock used a spell to dry them off and they got dressed before making their way up to the castle, talking and laughing with ease. This was the night it first occurred to Molly that she completely trusted Sherlock and John.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you have it. The first half of the lake scene was a little emotionally taxing for me to write due to my own experiences with swimming, but I'm glad it turned out sort of fluffy in the end. The plot should start to pick up a bit more in the next couple of chapters if all goes according to plan. Thanks for reading!


	11. Trials, Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took a little bit longer than I expected to update. I was dealing with end of semester woes, I'm afraid. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this.

“Everyone look here at the excellent colour and consistency of Holmes and Hooper's elixir. Marvelous! Ten points to you both,” Slughorn announced at the end of Potion's class one afternoon. Several of Sherlock and Molly's classmates gave them sour looks while a few others seemed mildly impressed. Gilderoy Lockhart did his usual amount of staring at Molly that lay somewhere between attraction and jealousy. It always made her blush a little, much to Sherlock's disgust. It appeared that time had only made Sherlock hate Lockhart more. According to Anderson, their dorm was like a war zone with the two sides stationed on either end and a No Man's Land in between which consisted of the beds of the three other boys unfortunate enough to have to deal with this clash of egos daily, himself among them.

“He's vile,” Sherlock reminded her casually after he caught Molly smiling politely at Lockhart while they packed up their Potions kits.

“I think he's charming.”

“Clearly your vision has been impaired due to the glare created by his overly white teeth,” Sherlock quipped, punctuating the statement by shoving his textbook into his school bag. Molly sighed and followed her friend out of the dungeons and over into the Great Hall for dinner. The aromas of good food were welcome after such a long period of cutting up slimy, smelly things.

“You know you don't get awarded points for practically inhaling three dinner rolls in three minutes, right?” Meena commented upon noting Molly's appetite. Molly was halfway through gulping down an entire goblet of pumpkin juice when she flushed with embarrassment at her friend's words.

“Sorry. I didn't eat much at lunch and something about the air in the dungeons makes me thirsty,” Molly apologized and Meena didn't reply, only raising her eyebrows and going back to her pork chops. Molly didn't like meat. After all of the poorly prepared meats she'd been fed growing up, she didn't think she could stomach any of it. Instead, she piled her plate with a couple of the vegetarian options and daydreamed about going out to the lake, kicking off her shoes, and tossing bits of food into the water for the little squid.

“What's got your friend looking so out of sorts?” Meena suddenly asked. Molly followed her gaze to the Gryffindor table where John was sitting, looking stony faced and staring at the stew in front of him but not touching it.

“Oh my, he seems really nervous about something. One moment.” Molly abandoned her meal in favor of going over to the Gryffindor table to inquire after her friend. “John, are you alright? You look a bit peaky.”

“I'm fine,” the blond replied tersely. Across from him, Lestrade laughed.

“He's just working up a sweat before he's even gotten to the Quidditch Pitch. Honestly, John, you'll do fine. And I'm saying that knowing that I'll be assessing all the candidates on equal terms.” At this, Molly shot the older boy a 'you're not helping' look and his grin fell. “Sorry.”

“I'll go out to the pitch with you if it'll make you feel better,” the Hufflepuff offered, placing a comforting hand on John's back, and he nodded silently. She'd forgotten that the Gryffindor Quidditch Trials were this evening and that John wanted to play for his team. It made her feel like a bad friend and she had to make up for it if she could. Giving her friend an encouraging smile, she went back to finish her food and grab her bag.

“So what's wrong?” Meena asked, puzzled.

“Quidditch.”

“Oh.” With that, Molly hurried to follow John out of the castle. He now seemed to be holding the attitude that he just wanted to get it over with. She wished she could offer some confidence inducing words, but she hadn't the faintest idea what to say, so she just walked with her friend across the grounds in silence.

There were already several candidates for the various open positions milling about the pitch when she took a spot in the stands. The place felt odd without the cheering crowds and action in the air. A few moments after Molly had settled in, Lestrade, Weasley, and John came out, all changed into red and carrying broomsticks. Lestrade clapped John on the shoulder and went over to debrief all of the candidates. Molly couldn't hear what was being said from where she sat, so she just watched. Lestrade seemed rather good at being captain, though McGonagall had assigned the role to him just this year. He was only a fourth year, but all of the older students had graduated or left the team, so he was really the only option.

Just as everyone was splitting off into groups and taking flight, someone sat themselves down beside Molly. She was astonished to find that it was Sherlock. He was carrying with him a great brick of a book and seemed to want to talk to her but didn't know how to begin.

“What are you doing here?” Molly asked, thinking maybe it would help if she initiated the conversation.

“Initially, I just wanted to assess the Gryffindor team, but when I saw you going with John, it occurred to me that now would be a good time to bring up something I've found,” Sherlock answered before placing the heavy book directly on Molly's lap. After making a sort of  _ oof _ sound, she saw that it was titled  _ Encyclopedia of the Darker Things _ . “It's the only book in the library that deals largely with dark magic that I could find outside the Restricted Section. Take a look at page 545.” As instructed, Molly flipped carefully through the thin, yellowing pages of the volume until she'd found the correct one. The name of the entry there, in large black lettering, was 'Thestral'.

“'Thestrals are magical beasts that can only be seen by those who have witnessed death and accepted it. They are usually described by such people as being like black winged horses, but with skeletal frames and wings like a bat. Though they are gentle to humans, Thestrals are thought of with animosity by much of the wizarding world...'” Molly read the entry aloud, slowly realizing what this was about.

“Is that what you saw pulling the carriages?”

“I think so, yes.” Molly smiled gratefully at Sherlock, glad to know that she hadn't been seeing things that weren't there. “Thank you.” He gave her a little nod after she kissed his cheek and handed the book back to him. They both turned their attention to what was happening with the Gryffindors, seeking out John among the many students in red and gold. It appeared that he was up next to dodge the Prewett Twins, who were trying to steal the Quaffle, and get past Lestrade, who was guarding the goal posts. His friends watched as he repeatedly slipped away from the older boys, then made like he was going to toss the Quaffle into the left hoop but fooled the Keeper and tossed it cleanly through the one on the right. Molly cheered enthusiastically and Sherlock clapped, seeming mildly impressed. Looking somewhat surprised by his own performance, John landed and joined them in the stands.

“That went better than expected,” he commented, dropping down heavily onto the spot beside Sherlock.

“You'll make the team,” the Ravenclaw told him simply and John grinned. They watched the Seeker trial, fascinated, as Sebastian Moran, one of John's dorm mates, caught every single golf ball Lestrade threw across the pitch, no matter what direction he came from.

“Damn. Sebastian said he was pretty good, but that was brilliant.” Sherlock looked like he was about to give a reply to this, but he was interrupted by the sound of cheering from the other end of the pitch. Apparently Sally Donovan had managed to get a Bludger through all three goal hoops in one go. Lestrade signaled for everyone to come back to the center of the pitch, so John hurried down from the stands, nervous at knowing that the captain was about to announce his decisions. Molly and Sherlock couldn't hear, but they could see Lestrade gesticulating and the sixth year who had been competing with John for the open Chaser position soon stalked off, appearing to be extremely put out but the verdict. John excitedly turned to give his friends the thumbs up, a gesture which the pair echoed.

Later, after they'd returned to the castle, the three of them celebrated in the disused classroom they'd claimed as their own. Sherlock dug out a box of Every Flavor Beans from the bottom of his bag and they passed it around. There was probably homework they were supposed to be doing, but they were in such high spirits that they didn't care. At one point, Sherlock decided that it would be interesting to see if the jelly beans burned different colours depending upon their flavor. This resulted in acrid smells and the near combustion of a desk. Molly removed the scorch mark just as Nearly Headless Nick chose to float into the room. The children jumped upon seeing him and he looked back at them with an expression of concern.

“You three had better head back to your houses,” the ghost told them. John frowned at the sternness in his voice. John had always seen Sir Nicholas as being friendly and not overly strict about suspected mischief.

“Why?” the blond asked.

“There's been an incident. Dumbledore wants all students to return to their houses immediately.”

“What's happened?” Molly spoke this time and a look of sadness came over the Gryffindor ghost.

“A student has died.” At this, the three children stood stunned for a long moment. “The Bloody Baron tells me that it was a Slytherin boy,” he went on and Sherlock grew curious.

“Did he say how the boy died?” he inquired.

“No, I'm afraid not.” With that, Sir Nicholas passed through the wall again. The Ravenclaw seemed more than a little displeased at the lack of information.

“We need to go. I'll see you tomorrow,” John said, grabbing his broomstick off the floor. The other two quietly agreed and they each hurried off to their respective common rooms. The castle seemed deathly quiet as Molly made her way down to Hufflepuff Basement. It left a strange feeling in her gut that she didn't know how to describe. Whatever it was, she didn't like it. The atmosphere in the common room when she arrived was a sorrowful one. No one was talking and a number of people were huddled by the fireplace, staring into the flames. Molly curled up at one end of a squashy yellow sofa and wondered what exactly had happened. Not long thereafter, Professor Sprout came in with the prefects. Many of the Hufflepuffs stood to ask what had happened, but Sprout gestured for everyone to stay seated and listen.

“This evening, a boy, Carl Powers, drowned in the lake. We don't yet know why this happened, but until further notice, I'm afraid all students are forbidden from swimming in the lake unsupervised. I'm aware that some of you may have known Mr. Powers and I would like you to know that should you need help with your grief, you can come talk to me or Madam Pomfrey,” Sprout explained. Carl Powers...Molly had heard the name before. Wasn't he one of Slytherin's prefects? That strange feeling inside of her grew and was still present when she woke up the next morning.

Where the Great Hall was usually noisy at breakfast, there was only the low hum of quiet talk when Molly came up to eat. The Slytherin table was almost completely silent. At the Gryffindor table, the new Quidditch team were all sitting together in their scarlet uniforms, today being their first practice. Molly's brow furrowed when she caught sight of Lestrade beside John. The fourth year's once rich, dark hair was now a stunning silver. She made note to ask John about it later. Meena didn't seem at all in the mood to talk, so Molly nibbled at her toast in silence.

With John off at the Quidditch Pitch, the rest of her morning was spent with just Sherlock, who was much more willing to talk about Carl Powers' death, eager in fact. Apparently Ravenclaw Tower had become quite the forum last night and he'd learnt some interesting things.

“The first thing I heard was that Powers' death is being treated as suspicious, and with good reason. Why would a boy who was known to be a strong swimmer turn up face down in the Black Lake? Some suggested that he was dragged under by Grindylows, but no. Powers was an excellent student who not only would be able to handle a few Grindylows, but would also have known better than to go swimming in the lake without his wand,” Sherlock told Molly as they sat in their favourite back corner of the library. Nobody was around, so it was the perfect place to have their conversation.

“Are you saying it was murder?” Molly asked, astonished.

“I certainly am.” Sherlock of course had the indecency to grin at the idea. The Hufflepuff consoled herself with the knowledge that he was excited at the notion of a puzzle rather than at the fact of Powers' death.

“But why would anyone want to kill a sixteen year old boy? And if it was murder, what then?”

“You show remarkable naiveté for someone who only months ago was nearly murdered by one of her own teachers,” Sherlock stated bluntly. Molly sighed and gave him an unappreciative look. He continued, “Powers didn't die by accident. There's a killer in Hogwarts again and we've got to find out who and why.” For a moment, Molly thought to question whether it was any of their business, but then she remembered how Jennifer had thanked them for their part in what had happened last year and thought better of it. Perhaps they did have a sort of duty to do something if they could. “We can't leave it to the Aurors, that's for certain. They always get it wrong,” Sherlock added after noticing Molly's lack of reply and she couldn't help agreeing with him, especially when they found out that Tobias Gregson was back the following Wednesday. He'd never had any particular regard for students, but now he seemed to have an especially sour attitude towards Sherlock, Molly, and John, as proven when he'd encountered them on the school grounds the night of his arrival. They'd been walking back from the lake shore after having a look around where Powers had been found when they happened upon him not far from the great oaken front doors to the castle.

“What are you three doing out here?” he demanded none too kindly. The three of them stopped.

“We were just having a walk,” Molly answered politely, but Gregson didn't quite accept it.

“At this hour?”

“If you took the trouble to glance at your watch, you'd see that it is not yet curfew for us,” Sherlock replied, perhaps more sharply than he should have, but there was nothing unusual in that.

“Even so, there's hardly anyone else about and people might think you're up to something if you're not careful.” Gregson spoke sternly and the three children frowned at him. He looked as if he were about to say something more, but he was stopped by the appearance of a familiar face.

“It's alright, sir. I can vouch for them.”

“And who are you?”

“Victor Trevor, sir. Ravenclaw prefect.” This had the great effect of putting Gregson off and the three second years hurried away with Victor before the Auror could get any more irritable. “What _were_ you up to out there?” the prefect inquired with a grin on his full lips as they ascended the Grand Staircase inside the castle.

“Having a look around the lake,” Sherlock responded truthfully, much to John and Molly's surprise. Victor laughed.

“So you do think it was murder, then. I agree. Someone's got to solve it, seeing as Gregson definitely won't. He'd have to take a moment to not look down his nose at students in order to get anywhere with it and we all know he won't be doing that anytime soon.”

“It was so charming of him to be more concerned that we might be causing trouble than that someone out there might wish trouble on us.” Victor gave a booming laugh at John's sarcasm and slapped the Gryffindor on the shoulder.

“Right you are, Watson. I look forward to seeing you on the Quidditch Pitch. If your play is at least as good as your wit, I might find my skills as a Keeper challenged.” John beamed at this. Sherlock had never spoken of Victor as a particularly charming person, but he was. “Now, I'm afraid Sherlock and I must bid you goodnight as I have a Ravenclaw matter to discuss with him.” John and Molly said goodnight in return and watched as the two Ravenclaws headed towards their tower. Sherlock seemed remarkably at ease with the older boy, much to their delight.

“What do think he meant by 'a Ravenclaw matter'?” John asked as they saw Victor and Sherlock disappear around the corner at the end of the corridor, the two of them in hushed voices to each other.

“Isn't it obvious?” Molly replied with a bright smile.

“You and Sherlock really need to get it into your heads that I'm not as quick on the uptake as you two half the time,” John said, unamused.

“Sherlock is going to try out for the Ravenclaw Quidditch Team!” Molly nearly squealed in excitement. John's jaw dropped.

“No!” he exclaimed in disbelief. “Really?”

“He had a broomstick with him at King's Cross Station. He ran off before I could get anything about it out of him.”

“When're the Ravenclaw Trials?”

“Friday night.”

“McGonagall's essay is going to have to wait, because I absolutely have to see this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And you will see it next chapter. I originally intended to include it in this one, but I thought better of it. The Ravenclaw Quidditch Trials will be a big, hilarious event, so they should shine in their own chapter.


	12. Trials, Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you are, then. I'm not overly confident in the quality of this one and it took a rather unexpected turn after a certain point, but I do hope it meets your expectations.
> 
> WARNING: This chapter contains discussion of child death and violent bullying.

Sherlock was quite annoyed when he found John and Molly following him out to the Quidditch Pitch on Friday night. He wouldn't answer them about what position he was trying for. In fact, he wouldn't speak to them at all. Undeterred, they took seats in the stands and waited, watching various students in blue milling about the pitch. Lestrade, Sally, and Anderson showed up and came to sit with John and Molly. Anderson in particular looked very excited.

“This is going to be good,” he told them, rubbing his hands together. They got the answer to the question of why before they could even ask, because only a moment later, a very put out Sherlock appeared on the field followed by none other than Gilderoy Lockhart. The blond swaggered in and smiled up at the stands, winking at Molly.

“Oh, please tell me they're not trying for the same position,” she pleaded to her friends, but Anderson only grinned, to her dismay. Soo Lin Yao arrived to take a seat beside Molly, which fortunately temporarily distracted her from her distress.

“I almost forgot it was this evening,” Soo Lin apologized, dark eyes briefly searching for Sherlock. Molly was rather glad to see her. They hadn't spoken since the start of term and Molly was interested to know how the first year was getting on. She'd heard that Soo Lin had made a number of friends, including a Hufflepuff named Andy.

“How are-”

“Shush! Trevor's talking!” John hissed and Molly returned her attention to the students in Quidditch uniforms.

“Right. We'll start with the Seekers. Since there are only two of you, we can make quick work of it by using a real Snitch. Catch it before the other and you've got yourself a spot on the team,” Trevor announced. Molly and the others could hear this time because they'd had sense enough to sit closer to the ground.

Sherlock and Lockhart stepped forward and mounted their brooms while Trevor let the Snitch loose. Molly and John's jaws dropped. Somehow, they hadn't expected Sherlock to go for Seeker. Now it seemed a fairly obvious choice, especially given how small he was for his age and how quick and observant he was by nature. Next to him, Lockhart looked entirely too sure of himself, such that while Sherlock was preparing to push off from the ground in waiting for Trevor's signal, Lockhart was brushing back into place an errant golden wave atop his head. Trevor sent up red sparks from his wand and the two second year boys shot off into the air. It took Sherlock a matter of seconds to spot the golden speck at the other end of the pitch and about as much time for Lockhart to catch on and follow. The pair raced after the Snitch with astonishing speed. Their passing was enough to rustle Molly and Soo Lin's skirts and hair. Lockhart shoved Sherlock, trying to get ahead, and the raven haired boy calculatedly elbowed the other in the ribs, retaking the lead just in time to nearly collide with a goal post, eliciting gasps from his friends. Lockhart tried to ram him again, but he swerved out of the way and did a tight vertical loop to pursue the Snitch, which had suddenly flitted in the opposite direction and downwards.

“Merlin's Beard!” Lestrade exclaimed in awe. They all watched, enraptured, as Sherlock sped after the little golden ball with a flustered Lockhart now far behind him. The Snitch tried to evade Sherlock by reversing its direction again, but he seemed to perceive its intentions and snatched it up as it flew just below the middle of his broom. His friends cheered and clapped loudly in delight, John and Molly going as far as to jump to their feet. Even Donovan and Anderson managed to look a little impressed. Lockhart, on the other hand, was extremely displeased when he caught sight of Trevor shooting up red sparks again, signaling that the Snitch had been caught.

“Well done, both of you, and congratulations, Holmes. You'll have a job filling Alya Darzi's shoes, but if what I just saw is any indication, I think you'll do just fine. Welcome to the team.” Trevor spoke once both boys had returned to the ground and ruffled Sherlock's curls. The other existing members of the team, including the former Seeker's younger sister, Zahra, applauded and beamed at the boy. Lockhart stomped off without another word, apparently livid, dragging his broom along the ground as he went. Trevor watched him go and muttered something under his breath that looked an awful lot to Molly like “smarmy git”. She frowned, disapproving of such unkindness.

“Poor Lockhart,” Molly sighed, and John raised his eyebrows at her. Like Sherlock, he'd formed negative opinion of Gilderoy Lockhart and didn't understand why the Hufflepuff was so forgiving of him. “I'm glad Sherlock got in, though. He's talented.”

“I don't think anyone can deny it,” Lestrade commented. “Blimey. How's Moran going to compete with that?”

“He can't,” Anderson snickered and Donovan thwacked him upside the head. John chuckled and Molly turned her disapproving gaze on him. He sheepishly tried to force away his smile.

“Ooh, it's the girl from the train.” Soo Lin suddenly spoke up and diverted the others' attention to the familiar blonde with a pink ribbon tying back her hair. Jennifer Wilson was trying out for the open Beater position. It turned out that she had quite a mean swing. One of the targets completely exploded from the impact of the Bludger Wilson had sent at it. Since the other candidates couldn't produce something similar, she too made it on the team. She bounced a little when the captain announced it and walked with Sherlock to join the group in the stands. Sherlock seemed to have become rather friendly with Jennifer. Molly theorized that it was because he liked people who were different and who showed him respect. Jennifer was exactly that way. He obviously didn't approve of her passion for all things bright pink, but the fact that she had the courage to be herself seemed much more important to him. That thought warmed Molly's heart such that her face hurt from smiling so completely at him when he came to sit on Soo Lin's other side. He appeared to be a little unsettled at her affectionate aura, so she forced herself to drop the smile and pay attention to the Chaser trial, which Trevor actually got up in the air to conduct.

One of the candidates managed to accidentally collide with the very poll Sherlock had avoided earlier, another nearly fell from his broom in throwing the Quaffle. Eventually it was a robust sixth year boy who managed to meet Trevor's standards. Soo Lin said she recognized him from an altercation she'd witnessed between him and a couple of Gryffindors. Sherlock didn't seem at all pleased as he went back down with Jennifer to the field.

“I think that one's got a bit of an unpleasant reputation,” Soo Lin informed Molly quietly. This filled the Hufflepuff with an uncomfortable sense of foreboding which she tried to ignore in favor of being happy for Sherlock and his success at becoming Seeker, a decision she would later come to regret.

* * *

 

As Autumn came upon them, Molly found herself spending less and less time with her two close friends. Usually, one or the other of them was at Quidditch practice and she more and more frequently spent her evenings alone. She missed the days when they'd all go down to the lake to swim together, the days when Carl Powers' murder wasn't hanging over them and they'd all just been happy to be back at Hogwarts. That joy seemed to be dying along with the leaves on the trees.

Professor Prince wasn't making things any easier on them. By the end of September, Molly had found an article in one of Sherlock's Daily Prophets by the woman which discussed how the way the students and staff dressed was, in short, 'an utter travesty' and how she planned to fix this. Not long after that, Prince began issuing each student a personalized list of things they should do to improve their appearance. Molly received one telling her that she needed to bob her hair and buy some new, pointier toed shoes so she didn't look like she'd 'stepped out of a squalid Muggle orphanage'. The girl ripped the parchment to tiny bits and sniffled the moment she got out of class. Sherlock whipped out his wand and incinerated his.

“What did yours say?” Molly asked.

“'Cut your hair and comb it to the right' followed by a list of name brand potions that would straighten and keep it in place,” Sherlock replied rather venomously. When the subject was brought up with John, the Gryffindor went off like a firecracker about Professor Prince. He went on and on about how she was a privileged old bat who ought to be sacked for harassment.

“Honestly, she's making people cry! Why did Dumbledore even hire her? What qualifications has she got? All we do in class is sit there and read!” John fumed one October evening as the three of them walked back to castle from the Quidditch Pitch, where Sherlock and Molly had come to meet John after practice.

“We know, John. I've been asking myself the same questions since the start of term,” Molly returned, a weary tone in her voice. She briefly glanced back along the path at the sound of distant laughter and saw Lestrade, Donovan, and Weasley walking along together. This reminded Molly of something she'd been meaning to ask John.

“Do you know why Lestrade's hair lost its colour?” The boy shifted his grip on his broom uncomfortably at this before answering.

“He doesn't like talking about it. He was the one who found Powers. He saw something near the shore of the lake when he was coming back from the Quidditch Pitch and went to have a look. It was pretty gruesome. It was such a nasty shock for Greg, his hair turned like that over night,” John informed them somewhat reluctantly. “Just don't tell everyone about it, yeah?”

“Wait, what kind of gruesome?” Sherlock inquired, seeming genuinely quite interested in the topic. Molly could see a glint of excitement in his eyes.

“I dunno. Drowned person gruesome. He didn't really say,” John responded agitatedly.

“I suppose the best person to ask would be the person who actually saw it.” Sherlock made to turn back towards Lestrade and the others, but John and Molly grabbed his arms.

“No no no, you can't do that, Sherlock,” Molly told the Ravenclaw sternly, which greatly confused him.

“What? Why not?”

“Because you will get hexed in the face,” John assured him as they dragged him onwards with them.

“Why?”

“Because it's not nice to just ask people about their traumatic experiences,” Molly explained, sounding much more gentle this time. She understood that Sherlock wasn't the best at knowing and comprehending the feelings of others.

“How are we supposed to find out more about it, then?” He was frustrated and a little vulnerable for not know what to do. Molly could see that, so she did her best not to make it worse.

“I don't know, we'll think of something. Come on, let's go to the library and we can talk about it there.” Sherlock silently nodded at this and didn't look back at Lestrade and the others again, much to Molly's surprise and mild delight. It was nice to know that he trusted her judgement on this matter. It was one of the highest compliments he'd inadvertently given her. Once they'd gotten to the library and begun their discussion, he surprised her again.

“We need more information, but we've examined all of our options. We've found nothing around the lake. No one who knew Powers has been helpful. We can't talk to anyone involved in the official investigation, nor can we bring it up with the person who found the body. The only way forward I can see is breaking into Gregson's office,” Sherlock put forth and John scowled.

“The last time we broke into someone's office, Molly got ink all over her face,” he complained.

“But we got valuable information.”

“We're talking about an _Auror's_ office, Sherlock.”

“An incompetent Auror.”

“Boys!” Molly hissed, getting their attention and hopefully not Madam Pince's. “I've been thinking. We've looked around the lake. What if we looked _in_ the lake? There're Merpeople in there, yeah? What if they know something?” This instantly brought an expression of elation to Sherlock's features and he grabbed her shoulders so that he could pull her closer and kiss her cheek.

“How did I not seen it before? You are brilliant, Molly Hooper!” he exclaimed as she looked back at him.

“I am?” she asked, stunned and blushing.

“Of course!”

“Hold on, we're not allowed in the lake, remember?” John put in after recovering from witnessing Sherlock kiss Molly on the cheek.

“Well, we'll just have to do it when no one's looking, won't we?” This earned the Ravenclaw John's classic 'you're not helping me understand' look.

“Oh, I didn't think about that part...” Molly muttered and Sherlock sighed exasperatedly, clearly unimpressed with their imaginations.

“We can't do it during Quidditch this time, obviously, so the next best thing is during the Halloween Feast. We'll just sneak out to the Black Lake while everyone's in the Great Hall. If we're lucky, we could be back in time for pudding.” This did nothing to stifle John's incredulity, which was, in true Gryffindor style, more about the logistics than the danger.

“How are we even going to breathe underwater?”

“That is simplicity itself, John. We're going to nick some Gillyweed.” Molly instantly perked up at the mention of the plant.

“Oh! Of course!” she gasped, grinning.

“You two, I swear,” John grumbled and Molly began to feel a little guilty for not making things clearer for him. “What in Merlin's name is Gillyweed?”

“It's a plant that can make you breathe underwater when you eat it. I saw some in the Greenhouses once and I asked Professor Sprout about it,” the Hufflepuff answered proudly and Sherlock smirked. The explanation worked wonders for relieving the tension in John's brow and he unfolding his arms to smack his palms on the table.

“Right then. Now that we're all on the same page, whose job is it going to be to pilfer the Gillyweed?” Sherlock gave only a scowl of deep thought in response to this.

“Well, clearly I should do it,” Molly put in and both boys looked to her in shock. “I know where it is and what it looks like, and on top of that, it doesn't seem nearly as suspicious for a Hufflepuff to be wandering around the Greenhouses as would be if either of you were seen.”

“You're rather on top of things today, Molly,” Sherlock commented.

“I'm just trying to help.” Something about the way the dark haired boy was looking at Molly made her turn pink again and she hastily diverted her gaze to her lap, on which rested her fidgeting hands.

“Well done. It seems that we've found ourselves a way forward.” That was the last overtly positive thing Molly heard Sherlock say for a good long while. His general mood took a turn for the worse immediately the day after. He began to talk to her less and less, to the point where he only did it if he had to. His nights off from Quidditch practice were apparently spent in Ravenclaw Tower instead of with Molly. She wondered if she'd done something wrong, but John told her that Sherlock had been this way with him as well, so it couldn't have been just her. They both knew that something had happened, but they had no way of knowing what. They certainly weren't going to get it out of him. Whatever it was was making him more aggressive too. John reported that Sherlock had snapped rather viciously at Sally Donovan one night during Astronomy when her only offense was to accidentally bump his telescope (for which she did apologize).

Further light was shed on the problem when Sherlock arrived to Potions class with a split lip and a particularly foul temperament.

“What happened to your lip?” Molly asked him after Professor Slughorn had finished giving instructions for the day's lesson.

“Quidditch accident,” Sherlock answered tersely as he flipped through the pages of his textbook without even glancing at her.

“You should have Madam Pomfrey put something on that. It looks painful,” Molly suggested.

“I'm fine.”

“I think I might have some salve in my bag that could help, if you don't want to go to Madam Pomfrey. It's mostly for paper cuts and the like, but-”

“I said I'm fine!” The force of these words nearly made Molly jump and she took a step back from her friend, who was now glaring at her. “You're always trying to be helpful, but did you ever consider that sometimes your help could be unwanted?” That bit deep, but Molly knew he didn't mean it. He only ever acted like this when he was feeling defensive and didn't know how to deal with his emotions. She'd spent enough time around him to see that.

“You can work with me if you like, Hooper,” Gilderoy Lockhart interrupted from the adjacent table. “You'll find my manners a great deal more civilized and together we'd certainly have our elixir perfect long before anyone else.”

“Back off, you slimy little toad,” Sherlock hissed, whipping out his wand to point it right between Lockhart's eyes. The blond's smirk almost instantly dropped.

“Mr. Holmes, what on Earth are you doing?” Professor Slughorn inquired from across the room. It seemed that he'd looked up from helping Cassandra and Caroline Gentry (who had inexplicably liquified their ladle) in time to see Sherlock's little outburst. Sherlock grimaced and lowered his wand as the teacher approached, for which Lockhart appeared to be quite grateful.

“It's alright, professor. There was just a misunderstanding,” Molly assured the Potions Master, not wanting to see either of the boys get into trouble.

“Be that as it may, you are not to point your wand at another student in my class. I'm afraid I'll have to take five points from Ravenclaw.” With that, Slughorn had them all get back to work and Sherlock was left in no better of a mood than before, though now Molly had much more solid suspicions as to what was going on with him. He was being bullied again, but why he was shutting his friends out was somewhat of a mystery to her. They could help him. He knew that. Maybe he was trying to handle it himself out of embarrassment. But surely he would ask for help if he was getting beaten to a pulp all the time. Then again, he was rubbish at asking for help and something like this would only make it harder for him. Molly's first instinct was to write to Mycroft, but by chance and the grace of Ravenclaw prefects, she happened upon the resolution to the situation before she could even ask to borrow Gladstone from John.

Molly was walking across a courtyard on her way to the Greenhouses to get the Gillyweed they needed for Halloween when she heard shouting, a loud bang, and the gasps of bystanders. She spun around to see Sherlock lying at the foot of the center statue in his blue Quidditch robes with the new Ravenclaw Chaser pressing his foot down on the boy's chest and brandishing his wand at his head.

“Stop muttering your little lies, Freak!” the sixth year barked. “Don't think 'cause you're Seeker that I won't bloody you up!”

“Expelliarmus!” someone out of Molly's sight bellowed and the Chaser's wand went flying. Victor Trevor stalked into view looking absolutely furious. “Step away from Holmes or I'll stun your arse faster than you can blink. Then you can drool on Flitwick's desk while he's deciding how much detention to give you,” the prefect threatened and he was reluctantly obeyed. Darzi, who had arrived with Trevor, helped Sherlock to his feet and let him use her shoulder as a crutch until Molly remembered how to use her legs and rushed over to replace the Beater, at which point she rounded on Sherlock's attacker.

“You would find my bat in your face if I had but a shred less of decency, Edgar,” Darzi told him before she took him firmly by the arm and dragged him in the direction of Flitwick's office.

“Anyone else want to have a go at my Seeker?” Trevor called and the rest of the students in the courtyard remained in stunned silence. “Good. Carry on.” He then turned to Sherlock and Molly, looking a bit weary. “Dammit, Sherlock. What did you tell him?”

“Why does it matter? Whatever Sherlock said, he shouldn't have been attacked,” Molly cut in, frowning. Sherlock wiped the blood from his mouth on the back of his hand and didn't say anything. Trevor sighed and nodded, seeing the Hufflepuff's point.

“Yeah, you're right, there's no excuse to thrash a twelve year old like that,” he agreed.

“Gave you a valid reason to kick Edgar off the team, didn't I?” Sherlock spoke with a strained voice and Trevor laughed at his words. Clearly Edgar hadn't been very popular with his teammates (Soo Lin had said before that the bloke was a known dickhead), but Molly couldn't believe Sherlock would willingly get beaten up over it. She saw right through him, saw that he was just trying to put Trevor at ease. The Keeper told them he'd let the others know what happened when they came down and let Molly and Sherlock head off to the hospital wing, where Molly voiced her concern.

“Sherlock, why are you letting people hurt you?” she asked once Madam Pomfrey was out of earshot. The boy fixed her with his blue stare for a long time before apparently deciding that she could not be lied to.

“I'm not _letting_ them. I'm just...I don't...it's my problem, okay?” he admitted awkwardly.

“Sherlock, asking for help isn't weak,” Molly told him and he scowled, though John arrived before he could say anything.

“You alright, mate? Mike said you got jinxed at a statue,” he called, almost out of breath by the time he came to Sherlock's bedside.

“I'm fine. I can go in a few minutes. Molly, stop being overly worried about me and go before you miss your opportunity to snatch the Gillyweed.” She knew he was trying to get rid of her, putting off their conversation, but he was right.

“I'll see you both later, then.” She only left because she at least knew no one would bother bullying Sherlock now that the Ravenclaw prefects' display was buzzing all around the school and he'd be more compelled to tell John the truth because she would if he didn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, that wasn't nearly as funny as I wanted it to be. That was actually kind of angsty. Apologies. Anyway, I hope it wasn't too bad.


	13. Trouble in the Deep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Here is your shiny new chapter. It was a lot of fun for me to write, so I hope it will be just as much fun for you to read. Additionally, I wish to clarify something a lot of people have been asking me about in regards to the Marauders and Co. This story starts in the early 60's. The Marauders attended Hogwarts in the 70's and as such will not be appearing as classmates to our trio here. However, they may or may not appear much farther down the line.
> 
> WARNING: This chapter contains intense and frightening situations.

Halloween came far too quickly for anybody's taste that year. Sherlock's mood had only just recovered by then, the whole affair having been finalized by him making John and Molly promise that neither of them would write to Mycroft about it. John's first Quidditch match would be just two days after Halloween and he was almost as anxious about it as he had been before the trials. Molly was getting worked up over this whole Black Lake business. She'd gotten the Gillyweed alright, but she felt bad about stealing from Professor Sprout, especially since she was her Head of House. Sherlock's way of comforting her about it was telling her that it was for the greater good.

The whole of Slytherin House seemed generally less enthusiastic about Halloween and the upcoming Quidditch match than they usually were. Meena chalked it up to them still mourning Carl Powers. Molly found it rather appropriate that she would be spending Halloween night in the Black Lake, investigating the late prefect's murder. She knew she couldn't tell Meena that. In fact, she had to make up an excuse for why she had be missing from the Halloween Feast. John had told her that he was just going to say that he hadn't felt well and had stayed in his dormitory, but she found that too risky and she didn't much like the idea of lying to Meena.

In the end, Molly settled on telling her friend that she had work that urgently needed to be done (with that exact phrasing) before she split from their path to the Great Hall and went down to the basement. In her dormitory, she donned her swim gear under her uniform and grabbed the jar of Gillyweed she'd hidden in her trunk, carrying it so that it would be concealed by the sleeve of her robes.

A hitch in their plans appeared in the form of the caretaker, Mr. Pringle, when Molly came cautiously up the steps from the basement. He was standing guard outside the large doors to the Great Hall and Molly froze, hoping he wouldn't see her. What was she supposed to do? She couldn't very well go about her business with him standing there and she couldn't go into the Great Hall and then leave later. Her mind raced, trying to come up with a solution to her very immediate problem. Fortunately, a solution presented itself as a loud bang from somewhere above. Mr. Pringle was quickly drawn away from his post, leaving Molly free to dash across the Entrance Hall and through the oak front doors as quietly as she could manage.

The night air was cold and in the dim light Molly could see her breath misting. She silently chastised herself for not wearing her scarf as she waited under a tree for the boys to appear. They were all going to freeze their arses off in the lake and all they could hope was that it was worth it. Sherlock claimed to have learnt Mermish in his spare time to make the Merpeople more likely to respond to them in a friendly manner, so they did have that going for them. Of course, there was the matter of actually finding the Merpeople to consider. The Black Lake was large and in all probability very deep. They only had one hour before the Gillyweed would stop allowing them to breathe, which made their odds that much smaller. Sherlock seemed to think they'd be in and out well within that time, but Molly thought perhaps he was being a bit overconfident.

He certainly didn't seem any less sure of himself when he came running up to her in the dark, John right behind him. She could see the shine of excitement in his eyes in the soft light from his and John's wands. There was also a certain eagerness in the Gryffindor's face and Molly began to wonder if they were all in this for different reasons.

“Are you ready?” Sherlock asked.

“Yeah. What took you both so long?” the girl replied with a frown after lighting her own wand.

“We're not late. You're early because you just slipped out while we were distracting Pringle. We had to get past him too, you know,” John retorted and Molly shrugged.

“Fair enough. Shall we go then?” Sherlock didn't even bother to give any sort of reply and simply walked briskly off in the direction of the lake, expecting his friends to follow. “I've got the Gillyweed. Enough for each of us to last an hour, just as I promised,” Molly assured the boys, holding up the jar for them to see. John made a sound a of revulsion.

“We have to eat  _ that _ ?”

“I'm afraid so, but it'll be a small price to pay for the ability to breathe underwater, wouldn't you say?” the Hufflepuff answered with a reassuring smile.

“That remains to be seen,” John grumbled back. They soon reached the shore of the lake and pulled off their robes to reveal their swimwear. The air felt even more bitingly chilly now and they tried not to think of how cold the water would be. Molly carefully distributed the slimy Gillyweed among them and John grimaced at his palmful.

“Cheers,” Sherlock said with a smirk before he shoved the green tangle in his mouth and began to chew. The other two quickly followed suit. Molly nearly gagged. Not only did it taste absolutely horrid, but the texture was cold, wet, and rubbery. It was like trying to eat a mouthful of particularly chewy worms. John looked as if he was about to be sick. Sherlock was clenching and flexing his fingers sporadically whilst his features were screwed up in extreme disgust and he made hacking noises. “Get into the water! Hurry!” he choked and they each made a none too graceful dash for the dark turbulence of the lake. Molly cried out in distress while John swore loudly at the temperature of the water. Sherlock seemed to have momentarily lost his voice. They hurriedly dropped below the surface, holding their breath until they grew gills on their necks and their hands and feet became webbed.

“Blimey!” John gurgled in delight as he felt the slits on either side just back from his jaw. Sherlock seemed to have swiftly gotten himself in order and waved for his friends to follow him. The light of his wand guided them along more than anything. The vague glow of moonlight above the surface grew farther and farther away as they followed the lake floor deeper and deeper. Sand and gravel gave way to rock and thick briars of some sort of aquatic vine, which they carefully avoided. It was not too long before the lake floor seemed to suddenly disappear and they were given an immediate sense of how deep this body of water truly was. It was frankly a little terrifying for Molly. She could see nothing but dark openness. They'd lost the rock they'd been going along and the only direction that looked any different was up. It felt as if they'd been floating there for ages before Sherlock made a decision about what to do.

“We'll go down. It's our only choice if we want to find the Merpeople. Stay close.” Listening to him was a bit like trying to hear him through a thin but soggy pillow that made  _ blork _ _ blug _ sounds, but they understood and descended with him after giving noises of agreement. A sense of foreboding grew in the pit of Molly's stomach the further they went. Something moved just outside the light of her wand and she gasped.

“What was that?”

“What was what?” Sherlock looked back at her, scowling. John suddenly shined his light on the area below them and revealed a vast forest of kelp. That feeling that had been festering inside Molly exploded into a full blown 'get the hell out now or you will die' sort of panic.

“Boys-” Before she could even warn them further, several small, brown, tentacled creatures attacked her, grabbing onto every inch of her body. They were scratching and biting her, pulling her down towards the kelp. The water was so filled with them now that Molly could not see either Sherlock or John. She could only assume that the Grindylows had nabbed them as well. The tentacle that was wrapped around her throat made it hard to concentrate and the tight grip of the Grindylows on her limbs made it rather difficult to move them as she wanted to. She couldn't get to her wand, which had been knocked from her grasp and was floating a few feet away. Her mind became completely addled with fear induced adrenaline. She thrashed about in panic, trying desperately to throw the creatures off, but where she succeeded, another Grindylow took its place. Her screams came out only as a stream of large bubbles and she was sure for a moment that she was going to die, but then when she felt the kelp caress the bottoms of her feet, the extraordinary happened, just as it had the last time her life had been in immanent danger.

Molly's skin let loose an electric shock to each of the Grindylows that held her, sending them furling back from her. This gave her enough time to snatch up her wand.

“Grindylow exumai!” she cried, blasting the nasty little creatures further away. Nearby, she heard a  _ relashio _ and the squawks of more Grindylows. A webbed hand closed on her wrist and her head whipped around in fright. She nearly sent a curse at whom she soon realized was John.

“We have to get out,” he told her urgently. “Where's Sherlock?” The answer to that question was given to him as the pair turned to see Sherlock swimming rapidly towards them, a huge swarm of Grindylows at his tail.

“Go, go, go!” he bellowed. John and Molly wasted no time in obeying. They moved upwards as fast as their bodies would allow, shooting through the water like penguins trying to escape an orca. Molly could barely hear, let alone understand, the stream of swear words that was coming from John's mouth over the sound of her own heartbeat. The water seemed to stretch on and on before them and they soon understood exactly how long and how deep they'd been in the lake. It became harder and harder to breathe until it was clear that they no longer had the boon the Gillyweed had granted them. Their lungs burnt for air, but the surface was still a long way off and the Grindylows were still pursuing them in large numbers.

Sherlock used the last of his breath to make a horrid screeching noise before a pair of Grindylows managed to grab hold of his legs and pull him down. John and Molly were about to turn back to help him when a group of great humanoid beasts appeared, a couple of them taking John and Molly by the waist to drag them to the surface faster than either of them could ever hope to on their own. Sweet, cold air filled their lungs as their heads came above the water.

“Sherlock! We have to go back for Sherlock!” John gasped. Fortunately, there came a splashing sound a moment later, announcing Sherlock's head popping up a few yards from his friends. He coughed and spluttered water while they swam over to him. The three of them just floated there for a long moment, embracing each other tightly and trembling from cold and from residual terror.

“Does everybody...have their wands?” Sherlock heaved after awhile.

“Yeah,” John murmured and Molly simply nodded against the side of Sherlock's neck.

“Right. We have to get to shore.” Nobody was going to object to that, so together they made their way toward the place from which they had originally entered the lake. Trying to stand up on land felt strange and they were so tired that they nearly let gravity pull them down. The breeze on their wet bodies chilled them mercilessly and made them shiver almost violently. Sherlock scrambled to cast a drying spell on each of them before they hastily donned their uniforms, which had been stashed behind a huge boulder. Most of the mottled, tentacle shaped bruises which covered their flesh were concealed by their clothes, but Molly had to adjust her collar to hide the marks on her neck. Neither of the boys objected when she slid her hands into theirs as they walked back to the castle. None of them really felt like talking at all after the experience they'd just had. Not a word was said between them until they reached the oak front doors.

“How are we going to get in without Pringle seeing?” Molly asked and Sherlock smirked.

“Oh, I highly doubt he's cleaned up the mess we left for him by now.”

“He'll be at it for a few days, I reckon,” John added, managing a smile that Molly found reassuring. Before she could ask them what they had done, they'd pulled her inside. As promised, Pringle was nowhere in sight. They could hear the rest of the school chattering away in the Great Hall, but none of them felt at all inclined to join the feast now. Instead, they made their way up to their disused classroom. There, they huddled around a fire Molly made in the jar the Gillyweed had been in and briefly discussed what had happened.

“We may not have achieved our goal, but we did establish contact with the Merpeople,” Sherlock began, his tone surprisingly optimistic.

“Do I sense a 'we're going to try again' somewhere in there?” John inquired, not sounding very keen at the prospect.

“Yes, but next time we're going to do it during the day and we're going to learn everything we can about the Black Lake before we go back in,” Sherlock answered, pulling his knees up to his chest and resting his chin on them. He looked exhausted, just as John and Molly did, and one by one, they nodded off around their little fire.

When they woke up in the morning, it was still happily burning in the center of the weird circle they'd created with their bodies. Somehow, John had ended up hugging Molly's shins like teddybear while she rested her head on Sherlock's chest and he propped his feet up on John's legs. This generated a few awkward apologies after they got up, but otherwise didn't bother them on a social level. Molly was honestly more concerned about the aches she'd developed as a result of sleeping on a stone floor.

“We'd better head down to the Great Hall as soon as possible or we'll miss breakfast and people will ask questions,” Sherlock groaned sleepily after glancing at his watch. Molly hastily checked that her bruises were still covered, combed her fingers through her long hair to make it a bit less messy and reorganized it into a tight ponytail before she followed the boys out. She still looked a little worse for wear, but since she'd given the excuse of work, Meena wouldn't question her haggard appearance.

It was almost strange how everything was perfectly normal when they came into the Great Hall. Nobody was staring at them or whispering and pointing. None of the teachers at the head table gave them anything more than a passing glance. Molly supposed that she was still feeling a little bit traumatized by what had happened the night before and that she was subconsciously finding it hard to believe that they'd managed to completely get away with it.

“Well somebody was up all night studying. You look like shite,” Meena told Molly when the younger girl took her usual seat at the Hufflepuff table.

“Thanks,” she replied with a wry smile.

“At least tell me you got that stuff done that made you miss the Halloween Feast.”

“Yeah, I did.”

“Good,” Meena replied warmly. “Now tuck in. If you got as much sleep as I think you did, you're really going to need a decent breakfast to make it through the day.” Seeing no reason to object to this, Molly helped herself to a bit of jam and toast (making sure to avoid the strawberry preserves for fear of even the slightest reminder of the texture of Gillyweed). She'd gotten halfway through her second slice when owls began to swoop in and she was mildly surprised to have Diogenes arrive to drop a letter from his owner next to her plate. For a moment, Molly panicked, wondering irrationally if Mycroft somehow knew what she and her friends had been up to, but then she remembered that even in the wizarding world that was a tad far fetched and Mycroft was due to write to her anyway. Carefully, she popped open the envelope and took out the short letter which read:

 

_Dear Ms. Hooper,_

 

_I hope that you are doing well and that the recent tragedy at Hogwarts hasn't loomed too heavily over your studies. I have received Mr. Watson's letter and I'd like to congratulate him and Sherlock for their successes in joining their Quidditch teams as well as wish them both luck in their upcoming matches._

_You'll be pleased to know that things at the Ministry are going rather better than expected. You may have read in the Daily Prophet that we've managed to get a law through that will guarantee Muggleborns the right to a wand at age eleven. The look on Abraxas Malfoy's face by the end of the proceedings was utterly priceless. I wish I could have captured it for you. Of course, we still have a long way to go in terms of meeting all of the Minister's goals, but it's a start. I'm afraid I can't tell you much more about what's going on than that._

 

_Sincerely,_

 

_Mycroft Holmes_

 

Molly smiled to herself and felt her mood brighten a little. Mycroft sounded very excited about what was happening at the Ministry. Before, Molly had wondered if Mycroft was even capable of being excited. On top of that, his news was excellent. She resolved to write her delighted reply during lunch and stowed the letter in her pocket.

Once she'd finished her breakfast and made a quick trip to Hufflepuff Basement to brush her teeth and properly brush her hair, she met up with Sherlock in the Entrance Hall and they headed over to Transfiguration together. He of course demanded to know the contents of his brother's letter, so she let him read it while they walked across the courtyard.

“He suspects we're up to something,” he commented with a laugh and Molly's eyes widened.

“What? How on Earth do you know that?”

“He talked about tragedy looming over your studies. Isn't it obvious that he means 'I hope you're not getting nosy'? Anyway, he's a bit late on that one, isn't he?” Molly giggled at this before taking back the letter and turning into the Transfiguration classroom.

“Well, you're his brother, Sherlock. I expect you know much more about how he thinks than I do.” She and Sherlock slid into their usual seats in the back. They always sat in the back because it was easier to see everything in the room, according to Sherlock. It was the only justifiable reason Molly could think of, considering that they were both smaller than average for their age. John had once told her that sitting in the back of History of Magic with Sherlock was great because he could sleep and no one but their friend, who didn't care, would notice, but Molly was not at all interested in sleeping in class, especially not this one. McGonagall would have her head if she tried any such thing.

Molly spotted Lockhart walking in and loudly dropped her copy of _A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration_ on the desk to distract Sherlock from seeing him. Their spats were wearing on her sanity and they definitely did not need to give Lockhart an excuse to loudly ask his dorm mate where he had been last night. Thankfully, the blond Ravenclaw quietly sat down at the adjacent desk.

Professor McGonagall entered the room in all her elfin like glory and commanded the attention of all of the students sitting about, chatting amongst themselves. They fell silent and with a flick of her wand, a piece of chalk began writing on the blackboard about the day's lesson.

“Today, you shall be learning how to turn beetles into buttons,” she began, but she was suddenly interrupted by a strange, strangled cry of excitement from a redheaded Hufflepuff girl. Her peers stopped and turned to stare at her in flummoxed astonishment. McGonagall seemed equally bewildered for a moment until the metaphorical lightbulb of comprehension lit up over her head. “Not that kind of beetle, I'm afraid, Ms. Jones.” This did nothing to clear up anybody's confusion, but for some reason, a few people were looking at Molly as if she could explain.

“Must be a Muggleborn thing,” Sherlock muttered and Molly shrugged. Whatever Jones was on about, the brunette was out of the loop.

“Turn your books to page 102 while I come around and give you your beetles,” McGonagall continued and the odd outcry was soon forgotten. Many of Sherlock and Molly's classmates were squeamish about bugs and/or had incredible difficulty getting their specimens to stay in one place. Sherlock simply stunned his and turned it into a button on his first try. “Excellent, Mr. Holmes. Five points to Ravenclaw,” the professor praised with a thin lipped smile after examining his perfect, large, shiny black button. It took Molly considerably more effort to achieve success with her beetle, since she wasn't highly gifted in Transfiguration like Sherlock, but she did manage to produce a lovely button after about ten minutes. Lockhart appeared to be growing extremely frustrated with his beetle (well, his second one- the first had been squashed). When it crawled off his desk and out of sight, he gave up and turned his attention to Molly.

“What's that on your neck, Hooper?” he asked and she nearly jumped out of her seat.

“N-Nothing!” she replied hastily, her hand flying up to cover the side of her neck.

“It looked like a nasty bruise to me.”

“Mind your own business, Lockhart, or you just might find a different potion in your hair tomorrow morning,” Sherlock threatened. The other Ravenclaw rolled his eyes and Sherlock looked as if he were about to hex him.

“What's going on here?” McGonagall interrupted, drawn to them by Sherlock's hostile tones. Sherlock murmured something that sounded vaguely derogatory, but it was too quiet for Molly to make out.

“Hooper's got a weird bruise on the side of her neck,” Lockhart tattled. The professor scowled and looked to Molly.

“Ms. Hooper, would you mind?” Shakily, the Hufflepuff pulled aside her ponytail and let McGonagall examine her neck, hoping against all hope that she didn't recognize it as the mark of a Grindylow tentacle. In those precious few seconds, Molly tried to come up with an excuse. “Well, Mr. Lockhart, she seems to be in perfect health. I would suggest paying less attention to your classmates and focus on finding your beetle. I expect to have your button by the end of the period,” she told Lockhart somewhat sharply before turning on her heel and going off to help a distressed Maisy Allen. Astonished, Molly touched her neck and could still feel the bruise. It was there, but somehow McGonagall hadn't seen it. When she looked back at Sherlock, he was sporting a huge grin.

Whatever anger Molly'd felt towards him at his being nasty to Lockhart instantly vanished. She hated how he always seemed to be able to make her like him again after he'd been rude, mostly because she could not resist the urge to match his grin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hell yeah, Minerva Having-None-Of-Your-Shit McGonagall. For those of you who don't know the details of her history, she's recently turned 28 at this point in time. On that note, who's up for the first Quidditch match of the season: Gryffindor vs. Slytherin?


	14. Let the Games Begin

Molly was surprised to find that John was not extremely nervous about his first Quidditch match. Apparently Lestrade had talked some confidence into him. Molly therefore took it upon herself to be anxious for him. It was the fact that he might get hurt that scared her more than anything. Sherlock not so helpfully told her that this was Quidditch and there was almost a certainty that at least one person would get hurt. A player was to expect injury with the position, so getting worked up about John was only causing her unnecessary harm.

The Hufflepuff was not in much better of a way by the time she was walking down to the Quidditch Pitch with Sherlock. He wasn't in a particularly cheerful mood either, having reportedly engaged in a hurling of vitriol with Gilderoy Lockhart before breakfast. It wasn't much of a shock to Molly, but that didn't stop her from being tired of hearing about it.

They climbed up to take seats in the stands, Molly bearing a little scarlet and gold flag to wave in support of her friend. The Gryffindors and Slytherins were both making an enormous ruckus. The section of the stands which was almost too red to look at was stomping and chanting “Hey! Hey! Gryffindor! Listen to our Pride roar!” which was punctuated by what sounded like an actual lion roar. This was followed up immediately by the section of the stands swamped in green hissing and chanting “Slytherin! Slytherin! We'll throw you in our pit and win!” Molly swore she could hear some people shouting “kick those tossers in the shin” instead.

“This is going to be a bloody fight,” Sherlock commented casually and the whole crowd erupted as both of the teams walked out onto the field. They watched as Lestrade shook hands with Jody Jacknife, the Slytherin Captain, and they all mounted their brooms. Molly could see that John was watching the Quaffle very carefully from the start so that the moment after Madam Hooch had thrown it up in the air, he had it tucked under his arm.

“And they're off! Gryffindor's new Chaser, Watson, gets the Quaffle, passes to Prewett, passes to the other Prewett. Black grabs it from him, but oh! Watson nicks it right back! Well done, mate!” the commentator, a chipper and somewhat overexcited Hufflepuff girl in cherry red lipstick, called out, her mane of curly blonde hair quivering as she spoke. John dodged another Slytherin's attempt to take the Quaffle off him and tricked their Keeper just as he had Lestrade in the trials, thus scoring the first goal of the match for Gryffindor. Molly cheered loudly, as did about half of the stadium, and Sherlock simply clapped and turned his attention to the Seekers.

“Moran's just now spotted it. Jacknife will notice in a moment. There you are.” Sherlock murmured and sure enough, Moran and Jacknife came zooming past in pursuit of the Golden Snitch, followed by the commentator (Rogers, Molly thought her name was) announcing it. “Moran will catch it within the next ten minutes.”

“What? What makes you say that?” Molly inquired, flabbergasted.

“Moran's too quick and quiet for her,” Sherlock answered simply. Gryffindor soon scored twice more and the Slytherins were getting rather flustered. “Their plan is obviously to make this a short match to stunt Slytherin in overall points as much as possible. That's cleverer than I would expect from them.” The Ravenclaw actually seemed somewhat impressed and Molly scowled at him for being so condescending, but he gave no notice.

“Ooh! Donovan knocks a Bludger into Jacknife's shoulder! It isn't a good day for Slytherin, is it? Wait, but Black takes the Quaffle from Prewett, passes to Craggy, and he scores! Watson has the Quaffle again- oh no!” A loud collective gasp came from the crowd and Molly called out John's name in distress. “A Bludger sent by Adler takes him clean off his broom! Black gets the Quaffle, but Lestrade pulls off a spectacular save.” This succeeded in wrenching Sherlock's gaze from the Seekers, who were approaching the neck and neck stage of their chase. John had fallen nearly eighty feet, his descent only a little slowed by Weasley trying to catch him before he hit the grass.

“Oh my God!” Molly cried, covering her mouth in horror.

“Moran has caught the Snitch! Gryffindor wins!” This announcement was met by thunderous celebration, but Molly couldn't so much as smile. John wasn't moving. For all she knew, he could be dead. She saw Madam Pomfrey go out to get him and she did not waste another moment in racing down from the stands, Sherlock at her tail. They caught up with the healer halfway back to the castle.

“Madam Pomfrey, will he be alright?” Molly asked urgently as she looked at John, unconscious on his stretcher.

“He hasn't got anything I can't fix. Don't you worry yourself, Ms. Hooper,” the woman assured her. Sherlock did not seem quite satisfied.

“Has he got a concussion?” the Ravenclaw pressed agitatedly.

“I'll need to examine him further to determine that, Mr. Holmes. Come by the hospital wing in about an hour and I'll be able to tell you both all about his condition.” It was pretty clear that they were only getting in Madam Pomfrey's way, so the pair let her go on with John. They stood silently on the path up the castle, watching her go. For all Sherlock's talk, Molly could see in his eyes that he had not been prepared for the idea of John actually getting seriously injured. That was fine. She hadn't been either and she was the bigger worrier.

“He'll be okay.” Though Molly spoke softly, the statement was for both of them. It wasn't long before they heard many feet coming up the path behind them and they looked around to see members of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team.

“Oi! What did Madam Pomfrey say?” Donovan called as the scarlet bunch approached. She was carrying what looked like John's broom. She must have caught it before it could get lost.

“She said she can patch him up,” Molly answered.

“He looked pretty banged up,” Gideon put in somewhat anxiously.

“Seemed a bit dead from where I was,” Fabian added.

“He'll be fine,” Sherlock insisted flatly before turning with a dramatic swish of his robes and stalking back to the castle. Something told Molly that it would be better if she didn't follow him, so she hung back with the Gryffindors and tried to get them to refocus on their victory. Most of them went off to Gryffindor Tower to celebrate, but she spent the next hour explaining to Weasley about electricity and cars. She ended up actually being a little late to the hospital wing because of it, if 'late' was to be defined as arriving fifteen minutes after Sherlock Holmes.

John was awake by then, although he was very still as he lay in his bed, perhaps as a way of ensuring that he would not in any way disturb his healing injuries. Sherlock seemed to be in a better disposition now and was talking with his friend about the match when Molly showed up. The blond smiled somewhat sheepishly when he saw her, alerting the other boy to her presence.

“How are you feeling, John?” Molly inquired.

“Like I got hit by a car.” That answer sent an oddly uncomfortable shiver down her spine, but she pushed it aside and returned his smile.

“Funny, I was just telling Arthur Weasley about cars.”

“Curious chap, that one. Do you know he asked my sister to tell him all about The Beatles the other night and he sat there with her in the Common Room for hours, drinking every word in?”

“What're The Beatles?” Sherlock and Molly asked in unison.

“An extremely popular Muggle band, apparently.” Suddenly, the outburst at the start of yesterday's Transfiguration lesson made sense and Sherlock rolled his eyes. Molly sighed and returned their attention to John's condition.

“So...Sherlock, if I know you half as well as I think I do, you interrogated Madam Pomfrey on how John is the moment you walked in, so why don't you share?”

“I didn't  _ interrogate _ her,” Sherlock responded incredulously.

“You did,” John reaffirmed with a laugh that was followed by a brief expression of pain. Sherlock scowled but nevertheless gave Molly what she wanted.

“He broke a lot of bones, by Madam Pomfrey fixed all of them, although the two ribs are going to take a couple of hours, hence why he's still lying here. He'll be very sore all over for a while too. Luckily, he hasn't got any bad damage to his head.” Well, that was a relief. Still, Molly had an odd feeling she'd be spending the next few years sitting at one or the other of the boys' bedsides because of various Quidditch related misfortunes. Combine that with the fact that the three of them had a habit of walking- or running- or swimming- directly into trouble and it was easy to predict that Madam Pomfrey was going to get to know them very well over the years.

It wasn't more than fifteen minutes before Sherlock and Molly's visit was interrupted by the rest of 'The Pride' showing up to wish their Chaser well and bring him sweets and Butterbeer nicked from the celebrations in Gryffindor Tower. Since Madam Pomfrey only allowed so many visitors in her hospital wing, the pair took this as their cue to go. John promised them that he would see them later.

Over the next week, the weather took a turn for the worse, as did Sherlock's tolerance for Professor Prince. For two and a half months, they had been doing nothing in Defense Against the Dark Arts but reading from the book and taking quizzes, leaving Sherlock in an already irritable mood, but with the continued commentary on the fashion choices of the students and Prince constantly trying to shame Sherlock into doing something about his hair by plucking at his curls and making derogatory remarks, something inside him snapped.

One day, he showed up to class with his hair turned an alarming electric blue and Professor Prince fainted the moment she caught sight of him, as if this was just too much of a crime against fashion for her to handle. For once, Molly could not bring herself to scold him. After the way Prince had been harassing him, this was only fair.

The other students took to Sherlock's example and soon every student who had ever been heavily criticized by the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, which was a lot of people, began showing up to class bearing the most unusual, anti-Prince fashion statements. A Slytherin fifth year spiked and dyed her hair in such a way that she looked like a flaming porcupine. A Hufflepuff boy apparently came in wearing immaculately applied emerald green lipstick. John claimed that one of his fellow Gryffindors had come to class with her face painted half blue, half white and carrying a claymore, which was promptly confiscated by McGonagall when she heard. Two days in, Molly was complimenting Victor Trevor on his newly maize yellow fingernails (to which he replied that they were very difficult to maintain, what with the roughness of Quidditch, but completely worth it). Some people chose to accentuate the very things Professor Prince had admonished them for. Jennifer Wilson enlarged her pink bow to the point where it obscured the view of others. The smile she wore when Prince gaped at her told Molly that whatever cramps the Ravenclaw was getting from having that enormous thing on her head did not bother her. Molly, for her part, decided to put stripes in her stockings just like the witch crushed by the house in  _ The Wizard of Oz _ .

By the end of the week, the student body had worked Connie Prince into quite a state. Professor Dumbledore made an announcement that Friday before dinner informing them that their DADA teacher had fallen ill and requesting that all outlandishness for the sake of shock and awe be put to an end. He also reminded them that students caught violating the dress code would be penalized, which put an end to Molly's stripey stockings.

She honesty felt kind of bad that they'd driven Prince into ill health, but part of her still argued that the woman deserved it for terrorizing her students. That was the part that remembered Jennifer's tears and the look on Sherlock's face every time he'd been touched. By Saturday afternoon, all of the more eye popping physical features had disappeared, including the electric blue of Sherlock's curls. Trevor decided that he'd keep his yellow nails until the polish wore off.

The following week, Molly and John didn't see much of Sherlock outside of class. The Hufflepuff vs. Ravenclaw match was right around the corner and Trevor was not going to let a little thing like the constant torrential rain stop his team from getting a leg up on Hufflepuff. Twice, Sherlock showed up in the disused classroom soaked to the bone and covered in mud. He promised his friends that the captain was having them take potions so that they wouldn't get sick, but John and Molly could both see that Sherlock was extremely tired. In the delirium of fatigue, he once refused Molly's suggestion that he go off to bed, saying that sleep was for the weak and that she obviously wanted him to be weak so that Hufflepuff would win on Saturday. She and John had then dragged him all the way to the entrance to the Ravenclaw Common Room. The knocker glared at them with its soulless avian eyes before it gave them the riddle.

“ _ What hunts but has no mouth to bite? Magic in make and always two in number, with these roaming free, never shall you slumber. _ ” Molly and John frowned at this puzzle, but Sherlock laughed scathingly.

“Simple. Boring. The answer is plainly Bludgers,” he drawled and the door swung open, allowing the exhausted second year to shamble inside, not even deigning to reply to his friends' goodnights.

In Herbology one morning, Molly was witness to Professor Sprout trying to rally some support from the Gryffindors for the match that weekend by doling out house points rather freely. John was definitely pleased by this as he earned five points practically just for potting his Mandrake while Sprout was looking. Only Molly knew that it would take more than that to make John Watson pick a side. His two best friends belonged to the apposing houses.

“I'll be happy either way, really,” he told Molly as they left the greenhouse and removed their earmuffs. “If Ravenclaw wins, Sherlock will be in a good mood, and if Hufflepuff wins, you'll be happy and I'll have something to rub in Sherlock's face when he gets overly pleased with himself.”

“Honestly, I feel sort of the same way, but don't tell anyone I said that or I'll never hear the end of it,” Molly admitted and John grinned broadly.

They didn't see Sherlock at all Friday night. According to Soo Lin, Trevor was now insisting that his team get plenty of rest before the big match tomorrow and so Sherlock had been confined to Ravenclaw Tower. They saw him decked out in blue along with his teammates the next morning at breakfast. Surprisingly, he did actually look well rested. Molly spotted Darzi passing him a plate piled with his favourite foods before Meena nudged her to get her to stop staring at the Ravenclaws.

“Tell me you're not rooting for Ravenclaw over Hufflepuff.”

“Of course I'm supporting Hufflepuff,” Molly replied, sounding scandalized. She neglected to mention that she was also supporting her friend. Nobody needed to know and it wasn't like it was a big deal, right? Why shouldn't she be happy if her best friend won his first match?

“Well then why are you staring at the Ravenclaw team?”

“I'm just a little worried for Sherlock. The weather is absolutely horrid out there today and I really don't want to spend more time sitting beside a bed in the hospital wing,” Molly confessed. She knew Meena would understand that much. The older girl nodded and gave Molly a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

“I'm sure he'll be fine. He may be a tiny chap, but from what I've heard, he's far from made of glass.” Molly didn't reply to that, silently thinking about how Sherlock was a lot more fragile than most people realized. It was possible that she and John were the only ones who had any idea of how soft and sensitive Sherlock could be. Meena implying that he was unbreakable didn't sit right with Molly. Still, she pushed it out of her mind and finished her breakfast.

Outside on her way to the Quidditch Pitch, it took only a couple of minutes for her to become completely soaked to the bone with icy cold rain water, the very same that pelted her face and stung. Nobody she passed seemed to care overmuch about the conditions. They were all excited about Quidditch. Molly found it astounding that people could put sport over their own comfort. Fortunately, when she got to the stadium, she found John, who had a large windproof Gryffindor umbrella under which they could both huddle while they watched the match.

It was difficult to see clearly with the heavy rain and the mist created by the crowd's breath, but they could still make out both teams trudging out onto the field, especially the Hufflepuffs in their canary yellow robes. All of the players appeared to be wearing goggles to aid visibility. The smallest figure on the field stood second in the Ravenclaw line and looked rather like an insect with his goggles and thin frame. This was obviously Sherlock. Victor Trevor reached back and ruffled his sopping wet curls. The display of affection was probably for encouragement in this case and Molly was finding it harder and harder to want her own team to win.

It took all of them a bit of effort to get into the air what with the mud, but soon they were up and the match had begun. Lightning flashed in the sky and thunder cracked and resonated through the pitch. Molly could feel it in her chest.

“And they're off! Hufflepuff Chaser Diana Jones takes the Quaffle; that's my girl!” Rogers' excited tones boomed out in commentary. If Molly recalled correctly, the elder Jones sister was Rogers' girlfriend. “Passes to Knight, but oh! Trevor blocks the attempt to score!” Now that she got the chance to really pay attention to Victor Trevor, she saw that Sherlock had been joking when he'd said the captain was a brilliant Keeper. Hufflepuff could not get a single shot past him.

The Beaters had to target him for a full ten minutes before they were able to make their first score, while Ravenclaw had already gotten thirty points by then. Zahra Darzi and Jennifer Wilson were having a time keeping the Hufflepuff Seeker busy whilst Sherlock scoured the pitch for any hint of that tiny golden ball.

“It can't be too easy for either of the Seekers in this downpour,” Rogers called and there was a series of flashes that lit up the sky and the pitch. In that sudden, intense light, Sherlock must have seen what he was looking for because he abruptly changed course and went shooting off towards the opposite end of the stadium. “Looks like Holmes has spotted the Snitch!” This clued in the Hufflepuff Seeker, who dodged another Bludger and immediately began to pursue Sherlock. She was just at his tail when he reached out for the Snitch. Molly's heart raced as she watched. Sherlock was so focused that he didn't see the Bludger coming at him and it struck him square in the shoulder.

“Sherlock!” Molly gasped, hands flying up to cover her mouth as he careened into the other Seeker and they both went tumbling backwards. Sherlock nearly fell from his broom, but he managed to clamber back into position. Unfortunately, in the moment of chaos, the Snitch had been lost. Since the Hufflepuff Seeker was still trying to right herself, he took a moment to touch his shoulder. It looked to Molly like he had cried out in pain, a theory which was backed up when he began to fly one handed, his other tucked tightly against his chest.

“Jones scores! Hufflepuff is catching up!” Rogers crowed, but then she made a slightly crestfallen sound and continued. “Not that it matters much, because Holmes just caught the Snitch, so Ravenclaw wins.” It seemed that in her momentary distraction, Molly had failed to see Sherlock hastily rediscovering the Snitch and going hands free to grab it by the very tips of his fingers. The Ravenclaws went wild and she couldn't say that she was saddened at all, especially not when she and John found Sherlock getting his shoulder quickly fixed by a soggy Madam Pomfrey and he was grinning from ear to ear. Molly could not think of anything that made her happier than seeing Sherlock full of such glee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the overabundance of Quidditch in this chapter, but I hope you enjoyed it. Things will take a turn towards the holiday season next with some things you might not have expected.


	15. Parchment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long. Life has made things extremely not fun for me for the past couple of months and I've got far too many WIPs on my plate to update them all often. I hope this is worth the wait.

With December came a torrent of letters to and from students about holiday plans. Molly Hooper knew she would be staying put. Nobody in their right mind would want to go back to Mrs. Digby's. The only thing that mattered to her was what her friends were doing. John was apparently going home again this year, despite his complaints about being stuck with his sister. There was nothing surprising about that. From all accounts, Mrs. Watson was a sweet albeit persuasive woman who loved her children to pieces.

Much more shocking was the sight of Sherlock writing a letter and one to his mother no less. She had evidently personally requested that her younger son be home for the holidays and he was complying, much to the astonishment of his friends.

“If my mother badly wants me home, it's for an important reason,” he told Molly and John over Potions homework in the library one evening. Molly was saddened by the thought that neither of the boys would be staying at Hogwarts with her, but she said nothing. It would be selfish to try and get them to stay on her behalf. Nevertheless, they did pick up on her dampened mood and tried to make their last few days with her as nice as possible. Even Sherlock put some actual effort and concern into it.

The morning that all the students who were leaving were meant to get on the train, Molly went out to the station to see her friends off, wrapping up warm as best she could and putting on a brave face.

“You'll get something from us for Christmas,” John promised with a big smile. “Stay out of trouble.” Molly giggled at that and kissed the blond's cheek.

“Take care, John.” She turned to Sherlock to give him the same farewell, but was met by a rather awkward hug before she could even open her mouth.

“We'll be back soon,” he told her quietly and for a brief moment, she thought she might cry.

“Thank you, Sherlock. Be safe,” she replied once he'd pulled away and she beamed at him, though there was still a sadness in her eyes. John tugged Sherlock's sleeve, reminding him that they needed to get on the train. Molly waved to them as they went, trying not to miss them too much already.

With her friends gone, the cold seemed to bite at her face even more fiercely, so she adjusted her yellow and black Hufflepuff scarf and trudged back to the castle to escape a winter that no longer seemed to hold much joy for her. She hoped that whatever reason had Sherlock's mother requesting that he come home wasn't anything bad. Despite his assurances that he didn't think she wanted him home for anything overly unpleasant, Molly couldn't help but worry.

Making her way back to the Hufflepuff Common Room, Molly tried to stop herself from thinking on her anxieties and sorrows too much. The holidays were supposed to be a happy time. Just as she was beginning to drudge up some positive thoughts to improve her mood, she spotted something on the floor near the stairs that led down to the basement. It was a leaf of parchment. Bending down, Molly snatched it up and read the header, which said in neat type 'Official Auror's Report'. She only had to spy the name Carl Powers to know that this was exactly what Sherlock had been plotting to obtain by breaking into Gregson's Hogwarts office. It occurred to Molly that it wouldn't be long before the Auror would be around looking for this document, so she had a limited amount of time to act.

Remembering an experimental potion Soo Lin had brewed the previous week that was meant to copy writing, Molly hurried down the stairs, document in hand. She almost messed up the rhythm when she tapped the barrel to get into the Hufflepuff Common Room because she was so giddy and slightly panicked. Once she was in her dormitory, she frantically began searching about for the little sample bottle Soo Lin had given her labelled 'Synchronizing Solution'. It wasn't in her trunk. Maybe she had hidden it in her Potions kit where it wouldn't look out of place. Ah, yes, there it was, safe and sound. Unscrewing the cap, she dabbed the corners of the document with her finger and then repeated the action with a blank sheet of parchment. Fresh ink bloomed onto the blank page, forming the lines the were on the Auror's report. It wasn't perfect. The lines in the copy were fuzzy in some areas and almost to thin in others, but the words were still decipherable.

Molly sat back for a moment to admire her the result of her quick thinking and it was then that she realized that she had just done something that was surely incredibly illegal. A little voice in the back of her mind that sounded rather like Sherlock told her that it was for a just cause, which was enough to persuade her to proceed. After stowing her copy in the back of her Charms textbook, Molly headed back out with the intention of returning the real report to Gregson. For a moment, she had considered leaving it exactly where she had found it, but that ran the risk of it falling into the wrong hands. Then again, there was no telling what Gregson would do if he thought she had read the report. Who should she give it to, then? She didn't know the current password to the headmaster's office. Oh! But she could always go to the deputy headmistress's office.

Smiling to herself for how particularly clever she seemed to be today, Molly made her way up to Professor McGonagall's office, giving a polite smile to everyone she passed in the corridors, despite the fact that the document seemed to weigh in her hand and mind like a bag of hot coals. When she came to the professor's door, she rapped on the heavy wood has firmly as her small, trembling fist would allow. The bid for her to enter came a second later and she stepped inside, greeting the thin witch behind the desk shyly.

“Hi, professor. Er, I found an Auror Office document near the stairs to the basement and it looks really important. I was wondering if you could make sure Auror Gregson gets it back,” Molly explained nervously, holding up the parchment in question. She silently berated herself for being so anxious. Why was she afraid? She wasn't lying and Professor McGonagall was unlikely to think she was up to anything. Still, the feeling persisted.

“Thank you, Ms. Hooper. You were right to bring it to me. I'll award you five points for diligence,” McGonagall responded with a thin lipped smile as she took the report. She glanced at it and raised an eyebrow. “I must also ask you not to repeat anything sensitive you may have read from this, understood?”

“Yes, ma'am,” Molly answered, nodding fervently.

“Good. You may go.”

“Thank you, ma'am.” Molly was almost out the door when Professor McGonagall called to her.

“Oh, and Ms. Hooper?” Molly nearly jumped and looked back.

“Yes?”

“Merry Christmas.” There was a sympathetic note to the woman's smile and Molly realized she must have heard from John about Molly being alone for the holidays at some point, being his Head of House and therefore the one to collect his name for the list of people going home.

“Thanks, professor. Merry Christmas.” Feeling much better than she had when she'd arrived at the Transfiguration teacher's office, Molly left and went in search of the Gentry twins. They hadn't gone home this year and they might not object to her hanging around with them.

In the few days before Christmas proper, Molly got to know Cassandra and Caroline rather well. They weren't geniuses like Sherlock or adventure seekers like John, but they were nice and they laughed with her while they showed her how to do various forms of hair braiding. On Christmas Eve, Caroline gave her a bottle of magical nail varnish that changed colour with the wearer's mood and even sat up with her in their dormitory that night to show her how to apply it (they were too excited to sleep anyway, might as well make it productive).

In the morning, Molly woke up and saw a small stack of gifts at the end of her bed, causing her nails to turn bright yellow. On top was a neatly wrapped gift from Sherlock and John. It was a small velvet box contain a silver bracelet with Celtic knot designs on it and Molly thought was beautiful. She put it on a grinned. The boys could be so unexpectedly sweet sometimes.

Next, Molly opened a gift that was addressed from 'The Holmes Family'. It was a pair of black fur earmuffs. They looked expensive and she tried them on immediately to find that they were very warm. Beside where they had sat on top of the tin Molly could only assume contained a portion of Mrs. Holmes' Christmas fudge, she spotted a letter that was definitely from Mycroft.

 

_Dear Ms. Hooper,_

 

_I hope you are enjoying your Christmas. I apologize on behalf of my mother for keeping Sherlock from you, seeing as you seem to be rather close to him, at least by his standards. I'm afraid that it couldn't be helped._

_The earmuffs which you are no doubt wearing on your head as you read this were something that mother saw while she was buying a new pair of gloves and it occurred to me that you had nothing to protect your ears from the cold. I do hope that they are to your liking._

_You will also note that I have sent another tin of fudge. I should warn you that the pieces on top have caramel in them. Mummy and the House Elf decided to get a little elaborate with the treats this year._

_Mummy would like to know if you have any interest in Arithmancy. I doubt you know what that is yet, so if you don't, please look it up before sending your reply._

 

_Merry Christmas and Happy New Year,_

 

_Mycroft Holmes_

 

Molly felt her heart melt as she read. The Holmes family was so kind to her that it was like she was one of them. It was odd to suddenly be hearing more from and about Sherlock and Mycroft's mum, though. Molly knew that she wasn't home a lot of the time. Maybe she travelled frequently and had come home for the holidays. But no, the same would have been true last year and her sons had barely mentioned her. Clearly something had changed in the Holmes household and Molly hoped that it was for the better. It certainly seemed so.

Turning back to her gifts, Molly popped open the fudge tin and tried one of the pieces with caramel in. It was just as delicious as she had expected. She made a note to look up Arithmancy and House Elf and then opened the present from Meena. It was a box of assorted wizard sweets that included some of Molly's favourites as well as a few things she had yet to try, like Fizzing Whizbees.

All in all, Molly was very pleased and grateful for what she'd been given this year, though she felt sad that she wasn't able to give anything herself. One day she would, though. She silently promised it to herself.

Cassandra and Caroline had both received a mountain of presents from their friends and family and their end of the dormitory was absolutely cluttered with wrapping paper and the sounds of overexcitement. Molly forced herself not to pay much attention to them. She didn't want to put herself in a position where she would feel painfully envious of them. As such, she quickly put away her own few gifts and got dressed to go up to breakfast. Molly sat alone at the end of the table in the Great Hall as she ate, but it didn't bother her. She was all too accustomed to solitude. The twins were with her later at the Christmas Feast, though, which was nice, but they weren't like Meena or the boys. She felt a bit like a third wheel with the pair sometimes.

In the few days between Christmas and New Years, Molly took to having walks about the grounds in the afternoons when the sun would most likely be there to warm her pale face. It gave her a chance to test out her earmuffs, which turned out to be particularly wonderfully protective against the cold. She would have gone iceskating on the Black Lake, but there was a thick layer of snow on the ice and she wasn't about to attempt to clear it. She did stroll around the lake a couple of times, humming the melodies of popular songs she had heard from the radio of some Hufflepuff fifth year.

After New Years, it didn't seem like any time at all before her friends were back and classes resumed. John returned with stories about what had happened while he'd been home and a chipper mood. Sherlock came back from the holidays somewhat different than he had been before. He was noticeably more quiet and reserved. Sometimes he seemed distracted, like something was weighing on his mind. Molly didn't know quite how to inquire about this change, so she let him be. It was more than likely something to do with his home life and she knew better than to pry into that kind of thing.

As it turned out, she didn't need to ask to find out what it was that was affecting Sherlock. On his birthday, a number of packages arrived for him at breakfast and he didn't open them until the evening when the only people who would be around to see were Molly and John. They sat together on the floor of their abandoned classroom, huddled around a bowl of bluebell fire with their homework and Sherlock's birthday presents.

First, he opened the one addressed from his mother with an eager, curious light in his ice chip eyes. From the wrapping emerged a small box which contained a silver fob watch (which was engraved on one side with the letters 'SSU') and a note. _This belonged to your father and I hope you use it as well as he did. -Mummy_ , it read. Molly's heart dropped when she saw. Sherlock's father was dead? That would certainly explain why he found the man such a touchy subject.

“Your dad is...?” John began, but he struggled to find a gentle way of saying dead that wouldn't sound like he was trying to be gentle. Sherlock shrugged.

“Apparently my real one is. The man I thought was my father, I don't know. I haven't seen him in many years.” John and Molly gaped in shock at this.

“Your _real_ one?” the Gryffindor boy gasped.

“Yes. I have been recently informed that my mother's ex-husband's brother, who died in an accident when I was two, is the true sire to both Mycroft and yours truly. My sly uncle talked my mother into marrying him, but she soon found that she preferred the, er, company of his brother, who was by all accounts a good man. That's the gist of it anyway,” Sherlock told them as if he were explaining some political point in his History of Magic notes. Molly noticed how carefully he slid the watch into his trouser pocket and she felt a sudden, overwhelming joy for him. She could only imagine what it would be like to spend all of her life thinking she'd come from some manipulative bastard only to find that the opposite was true. “Molly, you asked me what Quidditch team my dad supports. It was the Magpies. He was also a Hufflepuff.” Molly beamed at that, which seemed to coax a hint of a smile from the Ravenclaw.

“What does SSU stand for?” John inquired, looking himself rather chuffed.

“Siger Scott Underwood. And before you ask, my mum never changed her name and that's largely why I'm a Holmes,” Sherlock answered. The other two were still full of questions, but Sherlock didn't seem particularly eager to continue on the topic of his parentage, so he picked up another gift, this one from his gran. It was a book on the “noble art of Divination”. He stared at it for a moment with an expression of mild interest and Molly guessed that he was adding the title to a long list of 'Things to Read When I'm Bored' in his head. John was snickering, though it was a complete mystery to Molly as to why.

“What are you laughing at, John?”

“Sorry, it's just that I can't believe someone would send Sherlock of all people that rubbish.”

“What?”

“Well Divination's a bullshit magic, isn't it? A bloke who has to be prodded into attending Astronomy isn't going to take to that stuff.” That didn't clear things up for Molly at all. John was probably forgetting that her knowledge of magic was limited by her Muggle upbringing.

“I still don't understand.”

“What John is so kindly neglecting to inform you, Molly, is that Divination is the art of foreseeing the future. It's considered by many to be false magic. I'm withholding judgement until I know more,” Sherlock cut in before setting aside the book rather dismissively, suggesting to Molly that he leant more in the direction of John's opinion of Divination.

Sherlock then opened a letter from Mycroft, the contents of which he did not share, though he did toss aside the letter when he was finished, wearing the same look of vague distaste he had at anything his brother ever said to him. He got some French wizarding sweets from his greataunt which he wordlessly shared with his friends. John produced from his pack a present for Sherlock which contained a couple of Dungbombs he had apparently nicked from his sister, who had gotten them on a trip to Hogsmeade Village. Sherlock was delighted. Molly, who was feeling very much left out of the gift giving, pecked the Ravenclaw on the cheek and wished him a happy birthday. John would swear to her later that Sherlock had turned a little pink at that.

The next few weeks were some of the most comfortable the three of them had had that year. Professor Prince no longer touched the students or tutted at them disapprovingly. Her scorn had become silent, at least in the classroom. She still published articles in the Daily Prophet criticizing students and staff. One article detailed “certain women on the Hogwarts staff” and their taste in hats, but it was pretty clearly an attack on Professor McGonagall. It later became obvious that the criticism had backfired as the day after it was published, the Transfiguration teacher wore her largest, pointiest hat with the two long feathers around the castle and fixed her intimidating blue glare at the older woman at every opportunity. The students found it immensely entertaining.

Lockhart returned from the holidays seemingly less interested in Molly, which meant fewer spats between him and Sherlock. His focus appeared to have shifted more in the direction of making himself look cooler than Sherlock to other Ravenclaws. It didn't get him much notice. Even Molly sort of forgot about him.

Soon Quidditch was back on and Sherlock was frequently away in the evenings because Trevor was drilling the Ravenclaws hard for their upcoming match against Slytherin. The cold and snow didn't let up at all through January and February, so Sherlock always came back from practice trembling and with rosy cheeks. There was a coating of white on everything on the Quidditch Pitch when the match finally rolled around. Molly and John huddled with Lestrade and Donovan under a large Gryffindor blanket as they watched, their breaths coming out in thick mist which vaporized the occasional tiny, errant snowflake blowing through the air. It was then that Molly's earmuffs really proved their mettle, especially when Sherlock beat Jackknife to the Snitch and the crowd erupted. Molly was afraid for John's voice, the boy cheered so loudly. It was a spectacular victory, to be sure. Sherlock and Jackknife had been neck and neck when the Snitch had suddenly diverted backwards and to the Slytherin captain's right. Sherlock, without hesitation, had rolled over his opponent to snatch the little golden ball from the air.

Molly had been hurrying from the stands, eager to go down and congratulate her friend, when she bumped clumsily into Tobias Gregson.

“Watch where you're going,” he told her gruffly with a dismissive glance.

“Sorry,” she apologized meekly and she was abruptly reminded of the document that she had forgotten, tucked away in the back of her Charms textbook.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there you are. There's only a chapter or two left for second year, I think. The next chapter will refocus on the main plot. I hope I'll be able to get it too you sooner rather than later. Thanks for reading.


	16. Beasts and Bludgers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the kind words. I'm sorry about the wait, but you know how life is. I can't update any faster than circumstances will allow.

Sherlock was nothing short of ecstatic when Molly showed him the copy she had made of Gregson's report. He was elated enough to place a sound kiss on her forehead and call her clever. John was thoroughly impressed by her quick thinking and daring as well and grinned at Molly like she was a ray of sunshine.

They sat together in the library, huddled shoulder to shoulder at a table to peer at the parchment before them with unrestrained curiosity. According to the report, Gregson had ruled Carl Powers death an accident, citing the lack of evidence for any other possible explanation. It was disappointing, but not altogether unsurprising to Molly.

“Well, I don't see anything here that's really helpful,” John complained in resignation.

“It's not what's here that's helpful. It's what's not here,” Sherlock responded with a knowing smirk. Molly felt a spark of excitement at the notion that the Ravenclaw was onto something. John simply scowled.

“Explain, Sherlock, you bloody great show off,” he groused, only causing Sherlock's smile to broaden.

“Look at the list of items found at the scene. What vital thing isn't there?”

“Sherlock.”

“Where's Powers' wand? If it had been on his body or with his clothes, it would be listed.”

“Maybe he lost it in the lake,” Molly suggested, but Sherlock shook his head.

“No, the Merpeople would have found it and turned it over to Dumbledore. Come to think of it, Gregson makes no mention of the lake folk at all in his report. Clearly he didn't bother to consult with them. He's one of  _ those _ people, then,” Sherlock rattled off.

“What do you mean, 'those people'?” Molly asked, frowning. John was nodding in agreement with Sherlock, so obviously this was about something common to the wizarding world.

“There are some who hold very condescending views of nonhuman sentient creatures. Only a wizard like that wouldn't bother to question the Merpeople in the Black Lake about something that happened in their waters. It seems that Gregson's incompetence knows no bounds.” There was a hint of disgust in Sherlock's tone as he explained and Molly couldn't say that she blamed him.

“If he hasn't got his wand, where is it then?” John spoke up again, a look of bewilderment his features as he leaned back in his seat. The wooden bench creaked beneath him as if it seconded his confusion.

“Obviously the murderer has it,” Sherlock replied, his smirk quickly returning. He folded the copy of Gregson's report and stowed it in his trouser pocket before taking Basil from within his robes and setting him on the table. The mouse promptly scurried over to Molly's hand and sniffed around, probably detecting whiffs of the sandwich she'd had for lunch earlier. Finding only disappointment and a couple of strokes down the back from the girl's finger, he moved on to John's hand.

“What would the murderer want with Powers' wand?” Molly asked as she watched Basil discover the few breadcrumbs on John's cuff.

“I'm not sure. Too many plausible explanations. Need more data.” A scowl of deep thought bloomed onto Sherlock's face as he spoke and Basil found his way back to Molly, perhaps now craving affection more than food. The Hufflepuff happily obliged him.

“How do we get more data?” John followed up, looking himself rather engrossed in thought.

“We've yet to talk to the Merpeople.” The Gryffindor let out a groan of dread at this, plonking his forehead onto the table. Their last experience in the Black Lake had been sufficiently terrifying to put off even John, who was ever the adventurer.

“Relax. We've a few months before the lake water will be even remotely warm enough for us to go in. We can spend that time reading up on the lake and Merpeople,” Sherlock assured his friends casually, though it did little to stifle John's uneasiness about the whole idea. Seeing as they had no other way forward, however, he agreed to it. That settled, they were left to wait out the cold weather. It was a long wait, so it didn't take much for the matter to float to the very backs of their minds in favor of more pressing things.

March saw John refocus his attention on his part in the Gryffindor Quidditch team. With the weather turning in a rather rainy direction, the boy could often be seen outside of class in sopping wet Quidditch robes. Sherlock and Molly spent many of the evenings in which John was not present at the library, where they, when not encumbered with homework, poured over books for information about the Black Lake and Selkies (the breed of Merfolk found in the lake). They couldn't find much about the latter and as their workload increased, they began to allocate smaller and smaller amounts of time to the task of searching for such information, especially with Sherlock's own, though less frequent, Quidditch practices to consider.

Following Gryffindor's loss to Hufflepuff, April arrived to give them much better weather. It was warmer and it rained less often. The mornings were foggy and cool, but the afternoons, when it was not drizzling, were warm enough to be welcoming to students looking for a little fresh air. Sherlock and John happily stayed at Hogwarts for Easter, to Molly's delight. She and the boys spent a lot of time going on walks, and often they would stroll along the edge of the Forbidden Forest. She was only barely able to persuade her friends that they should not actually enter the forest.

One afternoon after the term had resumed, when Sherlock seemed to be feeling particularly restless and less likely to listen to Molly's scolding, the trio encountered Ogg's assistant, a friendly man named Rubeus Hagrid. He was difficult to miss as they came upon him tending to his vegetable garden. He was a rather large man with wild, bushy hair and a beard.

“Hello there, Mr. Hagrid!” Molly greeted cheerfully, not wanting to give the man any impression that the three of them were up to something, being so close to the forest as they were. Sherlock shot her an ill tempered look, never a one for being social, especially with strangers, but she ignored him.

“Hullo! What brings you three out 'ere?” Hagrid responded, a jovial expression on his worn features.

“Just having a walk. We usually go around the lake, but it's a bit windy and chilly there this time of year.”

“Tha's true enough.”

“I'm Molly Hooper. This is John Watson and Sherlock Holmes. We're second years.”

“Lovely t'meet ye.” The assistant gamekeeper smiled broadly and shook the hand Molly offered with his own enormous, grubby one. Before she could make anymore polite conversation, Sherlock seemed to have a change of heart about talking and took the reigns of the discussion.

“Mr. Hagrid, how well do you know the Hogwarts grounds?” he asked with a gleam in his eye that both Molly and John easily recognized as that of intense interest. What was Sherlock playing at?

“As well as the back of me own 'and,” Hagrid answered proudly.

“Even the lake?”

“O' course.”

“What about the creatures?” Now a glint of excitement appeared in Hagrid's dark eyes. It soon became clear that Sherlock had touched a subject that the man was passionate about. He proceeded to tell the three of them all about the various fauna that occupied the Hogwarts grounds. He was so pleased by their interest in his answers to their questions that he invited them into his hut for tea, where they encountered a little bloodhound puppy which was apparently named Bart.

“Look at tha',” Hagrid marveled as he put the kettle on and looked over to see Bart wagging his tail enthusiastically at the children. They each took turns petting the excited puppy and Bart seemed to decide, strangely enough, that he liked Sherlock best of the three and settled himself at the Ravenclaw's feet. “He doesn't usually take to strangers.” Hagrid beamed at Sherlock, who looked mildly pleased with himself. “Now, what was it ye were wantin' t'know about the lake?”

“Where do the Merpeople live?” Sherlock inquired and the other two finally understood what all of this was about.

“The lake folk live on the bottom o' the west side. If ye go in the lake from tha' end and just put yer 'ead under the water, ye might hear 'em singing,” Hagrid replied as he poured tea into four large mugs.

“Have you ever heard them, Hagrid?” John asked after accepting one of the mugs with a grateful nod. Molly took a sip of the one she was given. It wasn't bad, but Sherlock looked like he was trying not to blanch when he tried Hagrid's tea. Molly imagined that he was used to premium blends.

“Once or twice. Never heard anythin' more beautiful.” A wistful smile appeared among Hagrid's beard. “Frightful intelligent creatures, they are. I wouldn't ever want t'cross one.”

“Is there anything in particular they don't like?” It was especially clear now to Molly what exactly Sherlock was up to, so she decided to join in. Hagrid looked contemplative at her question and she waited patiently, taking a few more sips from her oversized mug.

“Well, they definitely don't like humans presentin' themselves as superior. Talkin' down to 'em is a fast way t'get yerself in a bad situation.” At this, John looked to Sherlock, who scowled back at the blond as if to say 'thanks for the confidence'.

“They wouldn't hurt anyone, though, would they?” Molly asked, thinking of how the Merpeople had saved them that night in the lake.

“No, I don't reckon so, especially if yer a student. As far as Merfolk go, the Black Lake Selkies are a rather friendly bunch. Been known t'help anyone tha' asks the right way, as a matter o' fact.” These words brought the glint back into Sherlock's eyes and it occurred to Molly that they'd probably just hit the line of inquiry he had wanted to get at from the beginning.

“How do you ask a Merperson for help?” the boy prompted.

“Ye show 'em tha' ye respect 'em and they'll listen to ye, sure enough.” A grin then bloomed onto Sherlock's face that was so powerful that Molly and John both found themselves smiling a little too.

“Excellent,” Sherlock muttered, causing a somewhat bewildered expression on Hagrid's part. “Thank you, Hagrid. We must be going now.” Abruptly, the Ravenclaw got up and slipped from the hut.

“Thanks for everything, Hagrid. The tea was lovely. Have a nice day,” John told the assistant gamekeeper before the two remaining children hurried after their friend. Hagrid smiled and waved after them despite the confusion they'd left him in. They ran to catch up to Sherlock, who was already quite a ways along the path back to the castle.

“Ah, bless Rubeus Hagrid's enthusiasm for magical creatures,” Sherlock said excitedly when they had settled in the library back at the castle. “I think we have all the information we need to be prepared for our next watery adventure. All we need now is more Gillyweed and a good time during daylight to go into the lake.”

“Yeah, well, by the time the lake is warm enough, the only Quidditch match left in the season will be Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw and we can't skip out on that,” John pointed out and Molly could feel a tension suddenly enter the conversation. The boys had avoided talking about the inevitable match in which their teams would face off and ultimately decide which of them would take the Quidditch Cup that year. It would only result in bickering, they knew.

Quidditch was of course not the only thing they had to weight on their minds. Exams were coming as well and their teachers began piling on work like they never had before. It was difficult to spend time working on the next step of their murder investigation when everything else was leaving them absolutely exhausted. Molly honestly didn't know how the boys managed to do Quidditch when her own load was almost too much for her. Needless to say, the investigation was put on the back burner once more without them ever resolving when they would next go into the Black Lake.

In the week prior to the last Quidditch match, Molly saw nothing of Sherlock and John outside of class. They didn't have time to study with her, so she found herself sitting in the Hufflepuff Common Room every night, her books and papers laid out before her as she attempted to keep up with her homework. Twice, she fell asleep while reading assigned sections of her textbooks and had to be carried back to the dormitory by the Gentry twins. Meena gave her a jar of Madam Benett's Bag Concealer, a cosmetic ointment that got rid of the bags under one's eyes. Apparently it was very popular among older Ravenclaw girls. It did wonders for making it look like Molly wasn't about to keel over.

She had been so buried in her studies that she didn't realize what day it was on the morning of the last Quidditch match until she came up to the Great Hall to see the respective teams sitting at their tables in their Quidditch uniforms. She waved tiredly to both teams and noticed that, though they were seated facing each other, Sherlock and John were very pointedly avoiding eye contact. This was going to be a disaster, no matter who won, Molly thought.

Meena mercifully didn't say anything to her as she piled her plate with jam covered toast. The second year was not in the mood for talking. All she wanted was to nap for a month with 'wake me up at the end of term' written on her forehead. Still, she finished her breakfast and trudged along with the rest of the school out to the Quidditch Pitch.

The weather was much nicer than it had been during previous matches. The sun was out and there was a particular warmth to the spring air that Molly hadn't felt since the end of September. It was nice not to have to bundle up or huddle under a brolly and the air was clear, allowing Molly to see everything perfectly.

The teams walked out onto the field to meet Madam Hooch, glaring each other down. Lestrade and Trevor looked like they were trying to crush each other's fingers when they shook hands. Just as they were mounting their brooms, Trevor reached over to Sherlock and ruffled his dark curls, as if doing so would bring him good luck or something. Molly couldn't deny that she thought it was a little cute.

The moment Madam Hooch threw the Quaffle into the air, the players became a frenzy of movement. Gideon Prewett was the first to catch it, but it was soon popped out from his grasp and passed back towards Lestrade. Before a shot could be made, though, John pilfered the Quaffle from Ravenclaw Chaser Ada Gilling.

“Nice payback for Ravenclaw's earlier move by Watson!” Rogers announced cheerfully. “Oh, but Darzi sends him a Bludger and he's dropped the Quaffle avoiding it. Gilling takes possession again...” It was all happening so quickly that Molly had a bit of difficulty keeping up. She turned her attention to the Seekers in hopes that they would be easier to follow. Not far from the Ravenclaw goal posts, she spotted Sherlock, who was surveilling the stadium in his usual birdlike manner. Moran was doing laps, seemingly to give himself the chance that he might be closer to the Snitch when it was spotted. “Ravenclaw scores!” Rogers cried out and Molly could see this draw Moran's attention. His movements thereafter contained a certain agitation that hadn't been there before. She looked back to Sherlock, who was still concentrated on finding that speck of gold. He didn't appear to notice the Bludger that Donovan had just sent at him.

“Sherlock!” Molly gasped, hands flying up to her mouth. As if he had heard her, he looked over just in time to get away with only a glancing blow to his upper left arm. After steadying himself, he grasped at his arm for a moment in pain. Molly hoped that it wasn't broken.

“Moran's spotted the Snitch!” Rogers called out and Sherlock rapidly refocused. He shot off across the pitch, pursuing the other Seeker and the tiny golden ball that was their quarry. “Trevor blocks a shot from Weasley! Looks like the Snitch is Gryffindor's only hope today.” Molly with her mouth slightly ajar as Sherlock came up beside Moran. She was sure they were exchanging the nastiest of looks if not also words. Sherlock reached out his hand towards the Snitch and the Gryffindor Seeker echoed him, knocking his elbow into Sherlock's arm as he did so. The pain that inflicted was enough to make the Ravenclaw falter and give Moran a window to grab the Snitch, which he immediately took. “Moran has caught the Snitch! Gryffindor wins the match and the Quidditch Cup!”

The stadium erupted with the cheers of Gryffindors and their supporters. The Ravenclaws seemed rather stunned by the loss and Molly couldn't blame them. This was the first time Sherlock Holmes had failed them. The boy himself slowly made his way down to the ground with his teammates while the Gryffindors did their ecstatic victory lap. Molly felt extremely conflicted. Her heart broke for Sherlock, but soared for John. Deciding that Sherlock was in far more need of her support at the moment, she hurried down from the stands and out to the edge of the pitch, where the Ravenclaw team had congregated.

“Sherlock?” she called out and Jennifer Wilson stepped aside to reveal a stony faced Sherlock who refused to look at the Hufflepuff. “Hey, you did really well today. I think you would have won if Moran hadn't taken advantage of you injury like that.” Sherlock managed to give her what passed for him as a weak smile, though it was more like a grimace. Let's get that arm looked at, yeah?”

“I'll be fine,” he shot back in a low tone, shrinking away from Molly.

“Come on, Sherlock,” Trevor encouraged. “She's just trying to help and I'll bet that arm smarts.” The Ravenclaw Captain gave Molly an affectionate pat on the head not unlike the hair ruffle he so often gave Sherlock and smiled warmly down at her. With a roll of his eyes, the Seeker wordlessly followed Molly away to Madam Pomfrey, who was on the other side of the pitch, fixing a broken finger for Lestrade. John ran to meet them and offered Sherlock his hand. After a moment of what Molly was sure was careful consideration, the dark haired boy shook John's hand, his mood instantly improving (though it would be foolish to think that he'd fully recovered).

“Now we can get on with other things,” he told his friends quietly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's one more chapter of Year Two left, which is probably about as exciting for me as it is for you, especially given my plans for Year Three. Anyway, I shall try to get the next chapter to you sooner rather than later, but I can't promise anything and I certainly won't appreciate any pressure from reviewers on the matter. Thank you so much for reading!


	17. Deeper Troubles

Within few days, Sherlock managed to fully forgive John for Gryffindor's Quidditch victory, although he never looked at Sebastian Moran the same way again. He quickly moved on to focus his attention on their little investigation, his conviction to prove that Carl Powers had been murdered doubling when the name was mentioned in the Daily Prophet for the first time in months.

“The Auror Office has officially ruled the death of Carl Powers an accident. Fools! The lot of them!” Sherlock growled, throwing down his copy of the newspaper on the stone floor of the abandoned classroom. Basil, who had been sniffing around nearby, scurried onto Molly's lap in fright.

“Really, Sherlock,” she scolded.

“All the clues that say it was murder have been staring them in the face! They must just not want to believe it's murder!” they boy continued agitatedly.

“Not everyone's as clever as you, mate,” John commented without looking up from his History of Magic notes.

“Correction: no one is as clever as me.”

“You can't possible know that.”

“I can make a reasonable inference based on the accumulated data of personal experience,” Sherlock countered haughtily and his friends scowled heavily at him. He continued on, ignoring them. “It's no use. We'll have to go into the lake during exam week. It's the only viable time.”

“You can't be serious!” Molly protested, despite the fact that she knew Sherlock was right.

“It's a small price to pay in the name of bringing a murder to justice, wouldn't you say?”

“Yeah, but-”

“Then it's settled. John, when is your largest gap of free time during exam week?” Sherlock spoke quickly and it took a moment for the Gryffindor boy to mentally catch up with him.

“Er, Tuesday. Early afternoon.”

“Perfect. Now, Molly, all that remains is for you to collect another batch of Gillyweed.” The light of inspiration twinkled in Sherlock's eyes then and Molly could do nothing but comply, nodding.

“I can do that,” she agreed and Sherlock smirked.

“Finally, everything is falling into place,” he said elatedly, tapping his fingers rhythmically on his thighs. Basil, possibly sensing the change in Sherlock's mood, scurried back to him, up his arm and onto his shoulder. The boy reached up and pet his little mouse, who squeaked in approval.

“Pardon me while I try not to be sick at the thought of eating more Gillyweed,” John commented dryly and Molly gave him an apologetic look. She ended up enlisting his help in nicking the plant, much to the boy's further displeasure.

Right after suffering through their Herbology exam on Monday, John was employed to distract Professor Sprout with questions while Molly snuck into the next greenhouse over. Carefully stepping around various pots occupied by formidable looking plants to get to the are where she knew the Gillyweed was stored. Taking a small jar from her bag, she scooped up some of the slimy plant and stuffed it inside before screwing the lid back on tightly. As she turned around, she could have sworn she saw the cactus in the corner wave at her, like it approved of her mischief. Molly did not dwell on the oddness of being given a cactus's blessing, instead choosing to hurry out of the greenhouse and back to the castle. John caught up with her a minute later and they made their way to Charms together.

Part of the exam involved using the tickling charm on a partner. Luckily, Flitwick paired Molly with John, so if all else failed, they would fake it for each other. That turned out to be completely unnecessary for either of them, since John managed perfectly to make Molly giggle and Molly was so distracted by her own worrying that she went overboard and brought John to his knees with laughter. She didn't get the impression from Flitwick's face that he had penalized her for it, much to her relief.

After demonstrating that they could make a pineapple dance, the students were released. Though they were tired, they were in a more cheerful mood because they could now head off to the Great Hall for dinner. The smells always seemed a little bit more enticing and the food a little bit tastier during exam week.

Molly spotted Sherlock already sitting at the Ravenclaw table when she and John walked in. He looked over at them and she gave him thumbs up to let him know that she had the Gillyweed. He briefly grinned in return before going back to his bowl of stew. Molly imagined that he didn't want attention to be drawn to them, so she split from John and settled herself at the Hufflepuff table.

“How was your day?” Meena asked.

“Everything went according to plan, surprisingly,” Molly answered with a small smile. That string of luck would be tested the following day, she had had no full grasp of exactly how much until it actually happened.

It all started out well enough. Molly managed not to fall asleep during her History of Magic exam, long and arduous though it was. By the time lunch rolled around, she had been instilled with a certain confidence that all would be well. While most of the student body remained in the castle, she and the boys snuck out across the grounds to the Black Lake, constantly looking about to make sure that they were not being observed. Under cover of a cliff, the three of them stripped down to their swimwear and Molly distribute the Gillyweed. They knew the drill. Shoving the globs if rubbery, slimy plant in their mouthes, they ran into the water, which was still rather frigid, despite the warm day.

Below the surface, it wasn't as ominously dark as it had been during their first trip into the lake. It was much easier to see and that made Molly less afraid than she otherwise would be. Still, they lit their wands and went deeper, heading west. They carefully avoided any forests of kelp, knowing that they probably contained hidden hordes of Grindylows. Eventually, the faint sound of eerie song reached their ears. Naturally they followed the music. The better they could hear it, the more beautiful Molly came to believe that it was. What the Merpeople were singing, she had no idea, but it was enthralling all the same.

It seemed that an eternity had passed by the time the three children came upon the source of the music. They had just swum over a cliff when they were surrounded by long, fast moving creatures who upon coming to a halt, were revealed to be Selkies. Molly noticed how they looked upon them with judgmental expressions and her anxiety levels shot through the roof. One of the Merpeople, who carried a trident, floated forward to address them.

“What are three young Hogwarts students doing in our waters?” he asked in a raspy voice. Sherlock bowed to the merman before giving a response in the form of a series of clicking and squawking sounds. The Merpeople appeared to be somewhat taken aback by this and Molly presumed that it was because he had spoken Mermish. She had to admit that she was rather impressed with him herself. “What do you wish to know?”

“Many months ago, a boy drowned in the lake. We would like to ask if you know anything about what happened.” Low chattering noises Molly was sure was the Mermish equivalent of murmuring broke out between the other Merpeople until the one with the trident replied.

“We know much about this, though you are the only three humans who have bothered to speak with us about it. We find this disturbing. The boy you speak of came into the water and swam deep without anything to aid his breathing. We warned him to turn back for his own safety, but he did not listen. He died before we could bring him to the surface,” the merman explained and Sherlock scowled heavily.

“Thank you for trying to save him,” Molly managed to get up the courage to say. The merman bowed his head to her, which she assumed meant something akin to 'you're welcome'.

“Did he have his wand with him?” Sherlock pressed on almost urgently and the merman shook his head.

“No. I recall distinctly that he did not. It was very strange.” Sherlock's eyes went wide at this, as if he was both shocked and experiencing a major realization.

“Thank you for your help.”

“You have shown yourself to be worthy of it, small one. If you wish it, my warriors will accompany you back to the surface.”

“You're very generous,” John commented and the merman gave another bow his head. Apparently this ended the conversation, because he then swam away and two of the other Merpeople positioned themselves on either side of the children.

“Grab hold of each other,” one of them commanded and both boys wrapped their webbed hands firmly around Molly's own. The two Merpeople grabbed Sherlock and John by their free arms and shot off through the water. Molly felt as if her body were being stretched out, such was the force of the water passing over her form. The rushing feeling that filled her up was both literal and figurative and she was half terrified, half exhilarated.

It seemed that all too quickly, they were just under the surface. They could safely wait out the rest of their hour here, although there wasn't much of it left, considering how much time they had taken in finding the Merpeople. They floated idly, watching the Merpeople who had escorted them swim away. A stream of startled bubbles came from Molly's mouth when something brushed her leg and she looked about to see a squid squirting along.

“My, you've grown,” she commented, realizing that this was probably the same squid she'd met all those months ago. It was almost the same size as her now and she wondered how big it could get.

The webbing between her hands and feet began to recede and her gills fade away. She could see the same happening to the boys and Sherlock nodded to her, prompting her to finally bring her head above the surface.

“There were so many things that could have gone wrong with this adventure,” John piped up after spitting out excess water.

“But they didn't,” Molly responded, smiling. She didn't know that they may have spoken too soon.

Though they made it back to the shore all right and dried and dressed themselves without incident, they were not as vigilant as they should have been in not being spotted when they made their way back to the castle. They came through the oak front doors and were barely across the Entrance Hall and up the stares when a voice called to them.

“You there! What were you doing out of the castle?” It was Mr. Pringle, the caretaker. Slowly, the three of them turned about to look at him, each doing their best to hide their guilt. Molly, to everyone's surprise including her own, provided their excuse.

“We were just having a walk around the grounds between exams to clear our heads. That's all right, isn't it?” Her tone was innocent enough that the caretaker gave a nod before grumbling under his breath and shuffling off.

“Well done!” John breathed, a grin spreading across his features. Sherlock, for his part, looked rather pleased with her as well.

“If I were a different person, I'd probably be frightened by your superb powers of deceit, Molly,” he told her, smirking. They continued up the stairs content in the knowledge that they had managed to complete their mission without much in the way of snags. Still, Molly could not help but notice that Sherlock was not entirely happy and she suspected it had to do with the information they had learnt from the Merpeople. As usual when it came to Sherlock's emotions, she turned out to be correct when she asked him about it after they had finally made it through all of their exams.

“Sherlock, we never talked about what we found out about Carl Powers,” Molly said as she and the boys lay in the grass under a tree on the grounds, basking in the warm breeze the relief of having finished the term.

“There's little to talk about at this point,” Sherlock replied stoically and Molly and John both frowned.

“You must have some idea of what it all means,” the Gryffindor pressed.

“The murder has Carl's wand and used it against him. Whoever they are, they are not a person to be trifled with and there isn't really a way for us to proceed regardless. Even with the success of last years adventures, I doubt the Auror Office would take us seriously if we told them what we know. We're children after all.”

The mood between them was glum for a little while after that. It felt strange to Molly to give up on an investigation. She imagined that feeling was even worse for Sherlock, who had been particularly dedicated to the endeavor. Nevertheless, as he had said, they could go no further, so they moved on with their lives.

After the end of exams, second years were required to meet with their heads of house to discuss options for additional subject they could begin to take as third years. By the time Molly met with Professor Sprout, she had looked over a number of course pamphlets but hadn't managed to narrow down which two or three she found most compelling. She saw Arithmancy among them and remembered looking up the subject when Sherlock's mother had asked her by proxy if she had an interest in it. Sadly, numbers had never sparked her interest, leaving her feeling guilty when, in further correspondence, she learned that Sherlock's mother was an Arithmancer. Many of the other subjects, by contrast, seemed potentially very interesting to Molly.

“Well, have you thought at all about what you'd like to do after Hogwarts?” Sprout asked when Molly expressed her indecision. The question sparked novel thoughts in the girl. She had never once thought about her career as an adult. Mrs. Digby had always given her the impression that she'd probably become homeless and die of exposure at the age of eighteen after being turned out of the orphanage. Now there was a whole magical world before her and she could be anything. It was rather daunting.

“I'm afraid I haven't,” Molly responded meekly.

“Ah. Well, which of your core subjects do you like best?”

“Er, I'm fond of Potions and Herbology.” Sprout of course beamed at that.

“Then I think you would particularly like Alchemy and Care of Magical Creatures. They're very complimentary to those subjects and I think you have the right temperament to do quite well in both of them,” the jovial witch suggested kindly, putting Molly at ease.

“Oh. I guess you can put me down for those then.”

“All right. Did any of the extra curriculars catch your eye?”

“I've thought about the Frog Choir, but I think I'll wait and see on that. I don't want to give myself more than I can handle.”

“Good idea.” After Sprout had finished writing notes to put in Molly's academic file, the girl was free to leave the office and spend the rest of the remaining days before it would be time to go back to London in peace with her friends.

The weather became particularly beautiful and they found themselves outside more often than not. The visited Hagrid once to ask him about the squid in the Black Lake and he told them about how it was probably a giant squid while he fed them questionable rock cakes. Molly spent the last day carefully packing all of her things into her trunk before going up to the Great Hall that evening for the End of Year Feast.

The room was decked out in emerald green, since Slytherin had once again won the House Cup, and everyone was wearing their pointy hats. It wasn't as exciting as it had been the previous year what with Molly and her friends being recognized in front of the whole school for their part in thwarting Professor Hope. Really, it felt like just another meal and Molly wondered if this meant she was starting to experience a feeling of normality in the wizarding world. When she was finally stand in Hogsmeade Station, though, she realized that she had a ways to go before she truly felt normal in this world. There was still a surreal quality to looking back at the outline of Hogwarts Castle in the distance and noting that that was where she went to school.

“I can't believe I'm a witch,” she muttered before she stepped onto the train. Despite all of her worries and hardships, she came to feel in that moment quite thrilled that this was a part of her life, something that was waiting for her when she left Mrs. Digby's place. She actually had a future because of it.

“Why are you grinning like that?” John inquired after they had all settled into their compartment and the train had begun to leave the station.

“Oh, I'm just really glad to be here with you two,” Molly confessed.

“I'm glad you're with us,” John replied with a smile, though clearly he didn't fully understand the meaning behind her words. Sherlock remained silently playing with Basil and didn't even look at her, though she imagined that he was listening.

“Where's Soo Lin?” Molly had expected to see their exchange student in the compartment, but it was just the three of them.

“Apparently she's in another compartment with her friends. I heard that she's well liked among her fellow first years.”

“Oh, that's lovely,” Molly replied cheerfully, though she felt a bit silly for not considering that Soo Lin might have other friends. Sherlock then set aside Basil, who scurried along the compartment seat to Molly's lap, and drew his Exploding Snap deck from his blazer pocket. They spent a good couple of hours playing Exploding Snap (and doing their best not to set the compartment on fire) until the trolly came around and they got their usual mountain of sweets. Molly chewed at a few Licorice Wands while she listened to the boys talk about what they were doing for the summer.

“Are you going to France again?”

“No, Mycroft says I'm going with mummy to a conference in Brussels and then to another in Vienna. I suppose it will be nice to see new things. I might pick up Dutch and improve my German.” Neither of the other two dared to comment on how nice it would be for Sherlock to spend time with his mother, knowing that he wouldn't like to discuss that aspect.

“I don't know what I'll be doing. I'm willing to bet that Harry will find a way to make things miserable for me,” John said with a sigh before biting the head off of a croaking chocolate frog.

“You can come visit me if you like, but I don't think you'd find it much fun,” Molly put in and John perked up.

“Maybe you can come stay with us,” the Gryffindor suggested brightly. “I can ask my mum if you can and I'll write to you and let you know what she says.” This instantly filled Molly with excitement.

“All right.” The idea that she could get out of a summer at the orphanage to stay with John had her over the moon. The atmosphere in the compartment was much more positive after that and only when she stepped out at King's Cross did Molly's excessive jubilation subside. “Goodbye, John,” she murmured to the blond as she hugged him tightly.

“Hope to see you soon,” he replied before hurrying off to find his sister and mother.

“Come on then. Let's find Soo Lin,” Sherlock called and Molly quickly followed after him, pushing her trunk laden trolly. They spotted Soo Lin a few carriages down, waving at scrawny boy with curly brown hair. She turned around just before Molly called out to her and she smiled.

“Thank you for making this easy and not dispersing yourselves in the crowd,” a familiar male voice drawled and the three of them caught sight of Mycroft approaching from a few meters away. He glanced at his fob watch before continuing, “Come along. We're on a tight schedule, I'm afraid.” With a sigh, Molly pushed her trolly along behind her sponsor to the Ministry car that would take her back to the Muggle world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...and so ends Year Two. The clue for the main plot of Year Three is "inheritance". I hope I'll be able to get the next chapter up soon, but final exams may make that difficult. Thanks for reading, everyone.


	18. An Unexpected Visit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea how I managed to write this in, like, a day, but here you are. Welcome to Year Three!

Nothing about Molly Hooper's summer had thus far gone according to plan. The first night after she had come home, Mrs. Digby had stolen her wand and locked her, her trunk, and a mattress in the dirty basement of the orphanage. Apparently she was not only “bad for business” but also too dangerous to be allowed any kind of freedom. Twice a day, she would get a bowl of food (if you could call it that) and be allowed up the the bathroom. There was no light to be had at night, since the one bulb in the basement had long ago burnt out. The only light during the day came from a small, iron framed window near the ceiling at one end of the room. Molly cleverly positioned an old table lengthwise beneath the window so that, as the day progressed, she could sit on the table and read or do her homework by sunlight.

Molly had had no letters from any of her friends all summer. If they had sent them, there was no way for them to get through to her, shut in as she was. She imagined that eventually they would become rather cross with her for not replying and think that she didn't like them. That thought was somewhat demoralizing, but she pressed on. Sometimes she would hear the neighbors blasting their radio, which was always playing rock 'n roll. She grew to know about The Beatles, The Who, The Rolling Stones, and many other popular Muggle bands. Whenever her favourite songs came on, she would drop whatever she was doing and dance around the basement in whatever wild way she pleased, because no one would see her. It helped her stay positive despite being locked in a horrible place and fed scraps.

Molly also made for herself a little calendar to help keep track of time and count down the days before September 1 st . Eventually, Mycroft would come to get her and all would be well again. Still, the days seemed to pass slowly and she was constantly trying to find ways to entertain herself. By the end of the second week of July, she had completed all of her homework, so she no longer had that to occupy her. When the inspiration struck her and there was enough light coming in, she doodled on scraps of parchment or read her books for the nth time. She considered messing about with what was left in her Potions kit, but there really wasn't much for her to do without a fire to put under her cauldron. Once, she painted her nails with the mood sensitive nail varnish she'd been given for Christmas. She was dismayed to find that the colour seemed to be stuck at a deep blue.

Some nights, it was unbearably hot and Molly was grateful to be shut up in a cool basement. It would have been nicer if the window was openable, though. She could do with a breeze of fresh air. The air in the basement was very stale and often stuffy. A breeze  _ would _ eventually come through that window, but not in a way Molly would ever have expected.

It happened on one of the cooler nights in early August while Molly lay on her mattress, humming a song she had heard that afternoon because she couldn't remember the words. There came a sudden cracking noise and her gaze snapped to the window just in time to see the whole thing lifted out of its place, leaving a gaping whole in the wall. Molly sat up abruptly in shock and wished dearly that she had her wand with her. That is, until she heard a familiar voice call out he name.

“Molly?” It was Sherlock Holmes of all people. She rushed over to the window to find two pairs of eyes looked down at her through the opening. Beside Sherlock was Soo Lin Yao.

“What are you two doing here?” Molly whispered.

“Rescuing you from hell, obviously,” Sherlock replied with a roll of his eyes.

“How did you know you'd find me down here?”

“Where else could you possibly be that you wouldn't be able to get any letters?” The two Ravenclaws reached down to her, signaling to her that she should take their hands and let them pull her out.

“Wait. What about my trunk and my wand?”

“Where is your wand?” Soo Lin asked, frowning.

“It's in Mrs. Digby's office, I think. It's the room near the base of the stairs.”

“I will get it for you. Sherlock can help with your trunk.” Soo Lin was gone in a flash before Molly could ask how Sherlock could be in any way helpful with her trunk.

“Lift your trunk up to the window as best you can,” he commanded and she obeyed, though she had no idea what he was planning to do. She then heard him mutter  _ elasticus finis _ and suddenly her trunk was sliding up and out of the opening. When she got full view of the opening again, it was just the shape it had been before and her trunk was lying innocently next to Sherlock.

“Sherlock, we're not supposed to use magic outside of school! You'll be in trouble!” Molly hissed anxiously. She did not approve of the fact that he had gotten himself on the wrong side of the law for her sake.

“Oh relax, Molly. They won't give me anything more than a slap on the wrist. This is an emergency and I haven't been seen by any Muggles. Now come on. I'm sure Soo Lin will be along any minute now with your wand. She's remarkably stealthy.” Sherlock extended both of his hands to Molly this time and she eagerly took them, allowing him to pull her up and out of the building. As soon as she was free, she enveloped him in a tight hug.

“Thank you. Thank you so much.” He silently let her hug him, giving her a small pat on the back as a 'you're welcome'.

“Right,” he said after clearing his throat when she released him. He drew a pair of small wheels from his pocket and placed them on the edge of her trunk. They latched on and he pulled the assembly into an upright position. “This will make things a lot easier.” Molly beamed at him in return.

As promised, Soo Lin came around the corner of the building a moment later, bearing the rod of golden wood that was Molly's wand. As Sherlock busied himself with replacing the basement window, Molly slid her wand carefully into its special loop in the waist of her skirt.

“Where to now?” she asked once she was sure that it was secure.

“This way,” Sherlock instructed and the three of them proceeded along the side of the house, Molly pulling her trunk behind her as quietly as she could manage. From underneath a hedgerow by the front of the place, Soo Lin extracted two broomsticks, which explained to Molly how they had gotten here. It did not, however, explain how they were going to leave or indeed where they were going.

Once they had made it to the pavement, they walked briskly down the street, and Molly began to feel a powerful sense of liberation and excitement. She was walking away from a summer of terrible abuse in the most adventurous way possible and she refused to look back, even to confirm that they had gotten away unseen. She walked with a spring in her step even though she had no idea where those steps were taking her. Soo Lin seemed to notice this about her and smiled, matching her pace with the Hufflepuff as she took hold of the other half of the trunk's handle so as to help in the burden of pulling it.

Eventually, they came to the corner of a larger box junction, although it was late enough at night that the streets were very quiet. Here, Sherlock decided that they would stop. He stepped just off the curb and drew his wand, holding it out like a hitchhiker might hold out their thumb. Molly was afraid for a moment that he was going to do more magic, but then something rather unexpected happened. Something enormous and purple came at them from down the street out of nowhere and Sherlock moved out of its way just in time. Molly almost screamed in shock, but fortunately her breath only hitched for a few seconds. Stepping back, she realized that before her was a triple decker bus. Sitting at the wheel was a man with dark blond hair and beard and a pair of thick, round rimmed glasses that made him look rather owlish. A young man who looked like he could be the driver's little brother addressed the three children with a warm smile.

“Welcome to the Knight Bus: emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard,” he announced before tacking on, “I'm Danny Prang, your conductor for this evening, and this is my brother, Ernie, your driver, at your service.” He stood aside to let the children onboard and upon seeing the trunk, helped them haul it up onto the bus. Sherlock took a few coins from his pocket and handed them to Danny, presumably as fare, before wandering further into the bus.

Where most buses had seats, this one appeared to be lined with beds and there was a chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Molly didn't think she had ever been on anything quite so fancy before.

“Where're you three headed, then?” Danny asked and Molly looked to Sherlock, who replied.

“The Leaky Cauldron.” Well, that wasn't what she had expected.

“All right. Take us away, Ernie.” Before Molly could do so much as think another thought, the bus shot forward, sending the children flying backwards onto the nearest bed, which itself was sliding around. Soo Lin tumbled over the other side of it and the other two became a mess of limbs. Sherlock made an  _ oof _ sound as Molly's elbow collided with his stomach.

“Sorry! Sorry!” she apologize profusely as they untangled themselves from each other to cling to separate ends of the bed frame. “Soo Lin! Are you all right?” Molly called, craning her neck to see if a visual would answer her question.

“I'm fine!” the dark haired girl called back before climbing out from under them and onto the middle of the bed. She looked a bit shaken but otherwise perfectly all right. The other two had to grab her arms to keep her from flying forward when the bus made a stop. Molly wondered how anyone could expected to sleep in these beds with everything knocking about the way it was. Ernie's driving was quite erratic and he didn't seem to care about staying on the road. When she looked out the window, she noticed that objects just leapt out of the way for them. Muggles must not be able to see the Knight Bus, because this sort of thing would definitely have made the news. Molly was terrified, but also rather impressed by the magic of the ride, a thought which helped distract her from the constant jostling.

“What are your names then, if you don't mind me asking?” Danny spoke up from where he stood calmly by his brother.

“I'm Molly. This is Soo Lin and Sherlock,” Molly answered, thinking it was probably better not to give last names.

“Lovely to meet you. You Hogwarts students then?”

“Yeah.”

“Consider yourselves lucky. Some of us don't have the aptitude.”

“What do you mean?” Molly frowned and Sherlock cut in when Danny looked a bit offended.

“She's a Muggleborn,” he said, as if it explained whatever transgression she had made.

“Oh. Right, well, there's some that have a lot of trouble with magic, like Ernie here. He can't seem to get wands to work for him. That's what we call being a Squib.”

“I'm sorry. That sounds very frustrating,” Molly managed, slightly embarrassed.

“It'd be easier if Squibs had rights. You might understand that, being a Muggleborn and all.” She did indeed understand. She understood all too well. Her hand touched her stomach where she could vividly remember being kicked by Bellatrix Black.

“Yes, I see.” Danny smiled at her, a sense of relief in his blue eyes. He had probably been a little afraid of how she would respond. If being a Squib had the same sort of consequences as being a Muggleborn when other people knew, she could see why.

The Knight Bus stopped again abruptly and the bed post was nearly ripped from Molly's grasp.

“The Leaky Cauldron, kids. Good luck,” Danny announced. Getting themselves oriented, the trio straightened their clothes and fetched Molly's trunk, which had slid to the back of the bus and gotten caught between two bed legs. They stepped off the bus, Molly and Soo Lin waving goodbye to the Prang Brothers before the triple decker shot off again.

The street was quiet and a gentle breeze played at their hair as they looked up at the inn. Seeing it this time felt different than it had before to Molly. Maybe it was because it was nighttime. Maybe it was because she had never been here without Mycroft's adult presence before.

“Hurry up or we won't be in before my brother,” Sherlock piped up as he opened the door. The girls quickly followed him inside and it was weird to see the place practically empty. The chairs were put up on the tables and the only soul there to greet them was the old innkeeper. “Is Mycroft in?” Sherlock asked and the innkeeper shook his head. The boy grinned and dashed up the stairs without further explanation. Molly looked to Soo Lin, hoping to be enlightened.

“You will be sharing a room with me. Come on.” Taking one end of the trunk each, the girls proceeded up the creaky wooden stairs and along a long, dark corridor.

“Why exactly are we staying at the Leaky Cauldron?”

“Mycroft is on business in London, so it's more convenient to be here.”

“I thought Sherlock was supposed to be off with his mum.”

“Not for the whole summer. Besides, not even having to be with Mycroft could make him pass this up.”

“Pass what-?” Molly's question died on her tongue as she took in the room Soo Lin had just led her into. There were two nicely sized beds, a chest of drawers, and a wardrobe. It was almost as nice as the Hufflepuff dormitories.

“Sherlock's is the room to the left and Mycroft's is the room to the right,” Soo Lin explained as Molly went to sit on the bed that didn't already show signs of use.

“It's lovely,” Molly comment softly. To be fair, Mrs. Digby's place had set the bar quite low, but still, she could not ask for better here. She began to unpack her things when there came a knock on the door.

“Come in,” Soo Lin called and the door opened to reveal none other than Mycroft Holmes.

“Well, well, Ms. Hooper. I see your friends have taken the initiative in retrieving you from that horrible orphanage the law calls your place of residence. That's not to say I approve of their methods,” the elder Holmes began, his eyes drifting over to Soo Lin for a moment. “I'm glad you're with us now, regardless. This will be your home until September, so feel free to get comfortable.”

“Thank you,” Molly responded with a small smile. She noted that Mycroft looked rather worn out. Whatever his business in London was, it was putting a lot of stress on him.

“Goodnight, Ms. Hooper. Ms. Yao.”

“Goodnight, Mycroft,” the girls said in unison.

Molly slept better that night than she had since the summer had begun. She actually felt well rested when she opened her eyes the following morning, although there was a little disappointment to be found in not being woken up by “You Really Got Me” by The Kinks, which Molly had heard quite a lot within the past few days and become rather attached to.

She sat up in her bed and rubbed her eyes before looking out the window. There was London in all its hustle and bustle, continuing content in the knowledge that there was no such thing as magic. She turned to Soo Lin's bed, which had already been made. There was a small note left on her pillow.  _ Went downstairs for breakfast. Come down when you're ready. -Soo Lin _ , the other girl had written, dotting the 'i' in her name with a cartoon flower. Molly quickly got dressed and made her own bed before and stepped out into the corridor. Her still slightly drowsy brain took a moment to recall which way there stairs were. As she approached the upper landing, her hand ghosting along the railing, she looked down into the common area and saw sitting with Sherlock and Soo Lin someone she had not expected to see.

“John!” she exclaimed and the blond boy looked up to grin broadly at her. She dashed down the stairs and ran to John, embracing him. He laughed lightly as he wrapped his arms around her.

“Hello, Molly! I'm so glad to see you. Sherlock and Soo Lin've told me everything. I can't believe that horrible woman locked you in the basement.”

“Yeah, it...it wasn't nice...but I'm out now, that's what matters. What are you doing here, though?” John then stepped back from Molly, his grin faltering.

“Didn't they tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“We're going to the Quidditch World Cup!” John sounded like he was ready to burst with excitement and Molly's jaw dropped.

“No! Really?” she gasped in disbelief and John nodded fervently. She then glared over at the other two. “Why didn't you tell me?”

“I thought he told you,” Soo Lin replied, pointing to Sherlock defensively.

“Slipped my mind.” He shrugged and Molly found she couldn't be genuinely angry with him, not when he had rescued her from the orphanage so successfully. Instead, she giggled and the others joined in. After a moment, though, she began to cry and they became concerned.

“Molly, what's wrong?” John put a comforting hand on her shoulder and she shook her head.

“Nothing. It's just...everything was terrible...and...and now...I'm so, so happy...” Molly blubbered and John pulled her into another hug.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woot! Quidditch World Cup! Kudos to anyone who can guess who the competitors are. The next chapter probably won't come as soon as this one did, but you never know.


	19. The Quidditch World Cup

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long. I have other fics to work on and then a new semester of school started and then this chapter ended up being really long. I do hope it makes up for the wait.

Saturday morning, Mycroft forced all of the children in his charge to get up at the crack of dawn and pack a couple days worth of clothes and whatnot for their trip. John nearly fell asleep in his porridge as the five of them sat at a table in the common area of the Leaky Cauldron and ate their breakfast. Even Sherlock looked a little bleary eyed, but Molly imagined that he was used to getting out of bed shortly before lunch.

“We'll be taking a Portkey,” Mycroft explained. “One has been set up in the yard out back. A few more witches and wizards will be making use of it, so we must wait for them to arrive, which I suspect will be very soon.” Understanding this to mean “finish your breakfast”, John experienced a burst of energy and disappeared the rest of his porridge in record timing. Molly had only just finished off her toast when a witch and wizard, both dressed in horrendously brightly coloured robes, came downstairs, eyeing Mycroft and the children uncomfortably. The young man gave them a nod and they seated themselves at the bar. A few minutes later, a kindly looking wizard of advanced years hobbled into the common area. He smiled at Mycroft, who promptly commanded the children to grab their bags and follow him. He led them and the strangers into the courtyard and strode over the dustbins as if he were about to go through to Diagon Alley, but instead he tipped one of the bins over and out flopped what looked like a dirty, deflated football.

“That's a Portkey?” Molly asked, unable to believe that something so ordinary, so literally rubbish could be a magical item powerful enough to send eight people across the country.

“Ten points to Hufflepuff. I was expecting you to say, 'Where's the Portkey?'” Sherlock joked with a smirk and Mycroft gave him an exasperated look.

“Yes, it's a Portkey. It's wizarding habit to make them out of things Muggles will mistake for rubbish,” Mycroft told Molly. “Now everybody touch a part of it and we'll be on our way.” All eight of them bent down and touched their fingers to the deflated football and suddenly Molly's world was spinning all around her in a blur and felt a horrible tug just behind her naval. A second later, they were all standing at the top of a grassy hill, overlooking what appeared to be an enormous campsite. Molly bent over, hands on her knees, and tried to overcome the urge to be sick.

“You all right, Molly?” John inquired and she nodded silently, not wanting to open her mouth. “It can be a bit stomach churning the first time. You'll be fine.” When Molly had finally gotten herself in order, she noticed that the three strangers had left, presumably to seek out their lots at the site.

“Come along,” Mycroft called, already walking off to the camp. The children hurried to follow him. As they came among the many tents, Molly had the opportunity to see witches and wizards from all over the world. They first passed through a section of the camp, which seemed to be mainly populated by Eastern Europeans, where a witch stalked out of a tent marked with a Belorussian flag, pursued by her husband, who proceeded to passionately argue with her in their native language. In front of another tent, which was deep blue and bore a crest with a mushroom on it, a group of Czechs laughed boisterously at something one of them had said which had sounded rather snarky.

Next, they came into a huge area positively saturated with red and gold. Chinese flags were practically everywhere. Molly saw a couple of children playing with mini firecrackers that let off red and gold sparks. The air smelled different here. There were many scents that Molly had never encountered before filling her nose and eliciting an indescribable joy in her heart. Soo Lin started to giggle when they overheard a few wizards talking and Molly gave her a questioning look.

“They were telling a joke. I would tell it to you, but it doesn't translate well,” she explained and Molly suddenly wished strongly that she knew Mandarin.

The five of them continued on through the camp quite a ways until they finally came to the section that seemed to be mainly British. Molly was fairly certain at one point that she heard someone playing the bagpipes until someone else begged 'Reg' to “put that infernal thing down and have breakfast”. Eventually, the group came to a comparatively modest looking dark blue tent bearing the Holmes crest on the flap, which Mycroft held open and gestured for the children to go inside. Molly followed in after Sherlock, wondering how they were all going to fit into a tent this size. What she saw when she was inside answered her question.

The interior of the tent was large and well furnished. If Molly had thought that the Leaky Cauldron was comfortable living, this was the height of luxury. There was a sitting area with well made blue armchairs and a darkly finished, extravagantly carved coffee table. In a separate area, Molly could see a dining table and chairs which matched the coffee table. There also appeared to be four other rooms, one of which was labelled as 'Bathroom - Unoccupied' in elegant silver script. The other three were most likely bedrooms with undoubtedly equally impressive furnishings.

Molly was glad to see that she was not the only one floored by this sight. Beside her, John and Soo Lin stood with their mouthes slightly open.

“Why do you have to be so bloody posh?” John asked Sherlock incredulously. The other boy shrugged and hastened to claim one of the rooms. Mycroft sighed as John followed his brother.

“Girls, go ahead and pick a room. I have a spot of business to attend to, so I will be gone for a little while. Please behave yourselves and don't let Sherlock get up to anything,” the young man told Soo Lin and Molly, who both nodded in agreement.

“Of course, Mycroft,” Molly assured him and she and Soo Lin went to take the room opposite Sherlock and John's as their 'responsible adult' ducked out of the tent.

It was just as Molly had expected. There were a pair of fourposter beds and a nightstand for each that matched the other furniture. The duvets were even softer than the ones in the dormitories of Hufflepuff Basement. Oh yes, her summer had definitely turned from the worst to the best. A grin so wide it made Molly's face hurt spread onto her features.

When she had gotten herself settled in, she came out of the room to find the boys already playing Exploding Snap at the dining table and she worried what that might do to the lovely finish, but then she realized that she should just be grateful that Sherlock was sitting down and not scheming, which reminded her...

“Hey Sherlock, what did your brother say to you about using magic to get me out of the orphanage?” she queried, taking a seat beside him. Without looking up from the game, he answered.

“He told me that given the circumstances, it wasn't going to go on my record, but that I shouldn't do anything like that again, at least not without consulting him first, blah, blah, blah, standard stern older brother scolding.”

“Oh, okay. Good. I don't want you to get in trouble on-”

“-your behalf. Yes, I know.” There was then a flash, a loud bang, and a puff of smoke. “That was pitiful, John. I beat you even while Molly was distracting me,” Sherlock crowed and the blond boy glared back like he was contemplating whether or not to throw a punch, but then he started to laugh and the other two joined in.

“Can I play?” Soo Lin asked, taking the chair beside John. They soon discovered that she was an absolute fiend at Exploding Snap. None of them could beat her, not even Sherlock. By the time Mycroft got back, it was mid afternoon and the boy's face was dirty with scorch marks, his expression reflecting his bruised ego.

“Brother mine, pleased do get yourself cleaned up before you eat,” Mycroft sighed as he retrieved a stack of plates from a cupboard in the dining room. He had come back with a rather delicious smelling bag of sandwiches, explaining that they were for the four of them and that he'd eaten while he was out. “Apologies for being away for so long. I was needed for a few more things than I had expected. It's good to see that you've all stayed out of trouble,” he elaborated while Sherlock went off to wash his face.

“It wasn't difficult with Soo Lin thrashing us all at Exploding Snap. Sherlock just couldn't let it go,” John piped up with an amused grin and Mycroft quirked an eyebrow at Soo Lin, who turned just a little pink.

“What? You didn't think I asked to play just to play, did you?” Molly and John gaped at this. “Mycroft said stay out of trouble, so I made sure.”

“Aw, I bloody love you,” John crooned and Mycroft managed a real smile, giving Soo Lin a pat on the shoulder. Just has he was distributing sandwiches, Sherlock returned, still looking slightly put out, though his face was free of smudges and black marks. They all knew he didn't like not being better at certain things than other people. He bit into his sandwich as if it had committed some heinous offense against him and didn't say a word.

“We can have a walk around the campsite after you're all done here. There will be people around selling merchandise and whatnot. You can each buy a couple things if you like,” Mycroft offered. When Molly looked downcast, he casually placed a small bag of coins in Molly's free hand. She opened her mouth to object, but he tilted his head at her in such a way that it was clear he wouldn't take the money back. She finished her lunch barely able to contain her smile.

When they went out, the late afternoon air was warm and there were a lot more people about than there had been that morning. They got funny looks from some people and it occurred to Molly that they did look like a rather odd troop, all being so young and none of them related but for Mycroft and Sherlock, who were only similar in hair and eye colour. It was still a family to Molly, though, her family, the only one she had, and a few odd looks weren't going to change that.

The group came upon wizards selling all sorts of merchandise for the match. There were Omnioculars, which allowed one to see and play back anything on the pitch and were rather expensive. Sherlock happily purchased a pair of them. There were jerseys, hats, scarves, and other garments which seemed to come in a choice of red and gold or pale orange and white. John carefully counted sickles in his hand before excitedly buying himself one of the orange shirts which had HELASSON 4 on the back and a small badge depicted three goal hoops in front of a glacier and a sunrise.

“What team's that for?” Molly asked, still curious about who was playing China.

“The Nordic Team,” John answered with a broad grin. “Helasson is the best Chaser in league.” She suddenly felt conflicted, much as she did during a Gryffindor vs. Ravenclaw match. Soo Lin, who was busy selecting a red and gold hat, was supporting her homeland's team, while John and the Holmes Brothers were supporting the Nordics. Once again, she had to make the decision to be happy with either team winning (though she subconsciously leaned more toward China out of solidarity with her fellow female). She chose not to buy any of the offered apparel, but the figurines caught her eye. They were miniatures small enough to sit in one's hand of the seven members of both teams and they _moved_. She looked at the backs of the Nordic players' robes until she found the one with HELASSON 4. Goodness, was he a handsome little fellow, with pale, angular features and wild, dark hair. Molly felt instantly drawn to him, watching him take a confident stance as he crossed his arms over his lean chest. She bought one of him and set him on her shoulder before turning to Soo Lin.

“Which of the Chinese players do you think is best?” she inquired.

“I know for a fact that this one is an excellent Seeker.” The dark haired girl picked up a figurine of the youngest looking member of the Chinese team, gently turning him over so that Molly could see the name on the back. YAO 1, it read. Her mouth fell open.

“Is he- ?”

“He's my brother.”

“Wow. You must be really proud.” Soo Lin nodded bashfully, replacing the figurine, and Molly smiled. She didn't buy it, knowing that it would be a bit weird of her to carry around a miniature of her friend's brother.

“All right, children, it's getting late. We should be heading back to our tent now for dinner,” Mycroft suddenly told them sternly after glancing at his pocketwatch. Somewhat reluctantly, they followed him back through the campsite to their tent, where they were once again left alone for a few minutes while he went to get the food. He returned bearing a small cauldron of hot soup and didn't say where he'd got it from, but Molly suspected his job was somehow involved. The soup was quite good and it energized the lot of them, getting them thoroughly excited about the match that evening.

When the time came, shortly after they'd eaten, Mycroft led the way through the forest to an enormous golden stadium into which thousands of other magic folk were streaming. They climbed up several flights of stairs until they had arrived at what John immediately exclaimed was the Minister's Box. A number of wizards were already there, many of whom Molly recognized from the papers, including the Minister of Magic himself, Nobby Leach.

“Good evening, sir,” Mycroft greeted when Leach caught sight of them. The thin, kindly old man beamed and shook Mycroft's hand.

“Good to see you, Holmes.”

“May I introduce you to my brother, Sherlock, our exchange student, Soo Lin Yao-” there was a brief look on both men's faces at that moment, like an unspoken understanding, which Molly noticed, striking her curiosity, though she was distracted from it a moment later, “-and my brother's friends, John Watson and Molly Hooper.”

“Ah, is this the young Muggle-born you've told me so much about?” The Minister was looking directly at Molly with his warm brown eyes and she simply stared back, unable to come up with anything to say.

“Yes, she is.”

“It's lovely to finally meet you, Ms. Hooper.” The Minister put out his hand for the girl to shake.

“L-Likewise,” Molly managed feebly, taking the hand he offered.

“You're brave and strong and you can weather anything. You're the equal of anyone. I hope you remember that when you're mistreated because of your blood status,” Leach told her softly, putting his other hand over hers as well.

“Yes, sir,” she replied with a slightly more confident nod, though she was still rather starstruck.

“Smart girl.” With that, he let go of her hand and turned his attention back to Mycroft, who gestured for the children to take their seats while he and the Minister had a very quiet discussion.

John seemed almost unable to comprehend where they were, in the Minister's Box at the Quidditch World Cup. He looked like he was about to pass out when a brunette witch in dark purple and silver robes entered the box.

“Oh my God! Oh my God! That's Síobhan Brackenwood!” he gasped and Sherlock rolled his eyes.

“Who's Síobhan Brackenwood?” Molly leaned over to ask Sherlock.

“She was, until last year, a Beater for the English National Team, some might say the best in the league. She's been asked to be the commentator tonight and John fancies her,” the boy explained.

“Oh.”

“I don't fancy her!” John complained incredulously from Sherlock's other side.

“That's a blatant lie. You told me-” The dark haired boy was unable to finish due to John slapping his hand over Sherlock's mouth, his cheeks red and his eyes alight with what could only be a combination of panic and homicidal thoughts. Clearly he was afraid that Brackenwood would overhear. Neither Molly nor Soo Lin could resist the urge to giggle at these antics. They settled down when Mycroft came to sit beside Soo Lin and John let go of Sherlock. Brackenwood went to stand at a podium at the front of the box after mingling with the other important people, like the Minister, the head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, the Chinese Minister of Magic, and the President of the Scandinavian Quidditch League. She put the tip of her wand to her throat, causing her voice to boom out across the stadium a moment later.

“Hello and welcome to the 414th Quidditch World Cup! I'm Síobhan Brackenwood and I'll be your commentator tonight.” She had a gruff alto sort of voice that somehow made everything seem more intense. “Give it up for those frosty folks from the north, the Nordic Team!” The sounds of deep drums resonated in Molly's chest and the orange sections of the stands went wild as seven figures on broomsticks flew into the stadium in an arrow formation. They were followed by an enormous dragon, a Swedish Shortsnout, which appeared to be made of ice.

“Too bad it's too dangerous for them to use their real dragon mascot. The real thing is even more magnificent,” Sherlock commented as he fiddled with his Omnioculars.

“...and those flames from the east, the Chinese National Team!” Strings sang out over the drums as seven players in scarlet swooped in, one after the other, followed by a Chinese Fireball made of flames. It coiled itself around the ice dragon and constricted. There were a series of loud cracks and pops like fireworks and the stadium filled with steam as the stands were sprinkled with cool water like rain. When the steam cleared, the dragons were gone and the crowd roared. “Last, but not least, let's hear it for our referee, Nida Amirmoez!” A witch in black and white robes and a matching hijab flew out to the center of the pitch, the Quaffle under one arm. She smiled sweetly and waved while the crowd cheered for her. The players gathered around her in a circle and she threw the Quaffle straight up into the air just as a few assistants on the ground released the Snitch and the Bludgers.

The pitch immediately became filled with a frenzy of movement. The Quaffle changed possession almost too quickly for Brackenwood to call out the names of the Chasers. Just as quickly, Sherlock worked the functions on his Omnioculars.

“Helasson steals it from Wen and oh! He just barely manages to keep it! He goes for the goal, but Xun effortlessly blocks it! Lang takes possession, but no, Jorgensen has a different idea! Huang sends a Bludger and- ooh! That has got to hurt!” Lars Jorgensen had taken the Bludger straight in solar plexus and was nearly knocked from his broom. He dropped the Quaffle right into Wen's hands. A moment later, the Nordics had the Quaffle again and this time they made a goal. Their supporters chanted Helasson's name until Lang evened the score. Getting dizzy from the rapid back and forth of the Quaffle, Molly focused her attention on the Seekers. Ingrid Skaðadottir and Zhi Zhu Yao circled the pitch, watching like birds of prey for the little golden glint of the Snitch.

“I've found it,” Sherlock muttered.

“Found what?” John asked, rather unwilling to tear his eyes away from the battle of the Chasers.

“The Snitch.”

“What? Really? Where?”

“Lower right. Far side corner,” the smaller boy directed casually and the others turned their gazes toward the area he had indicated. Sure enough, there was the Snitch, flitting about, waiting to be discovered. “Yao is going to spot it within the next ten minutes.”

“How could you possibly know that?” Molly spoke this time, thinking that while, yes, Sherlock was incredibly observant, his prediction seemed a little far fetched, even for him. He said nothing in reply and simply smirked. Ten minutes later, he was proven correct and the other children gaped as Yao sped for the Snitch, pursued a moment after that by Skaðadottir. The Nordic Team was ahead by thirty points. If China got the Snitch now, they'd win.

Skaðadottir flew up beside Yao and knocked into him to lock broom handles with him and steer them both away from the Snitch. Amirmoez blew her whistle upon seeing this.

“Foul!”

“The Nordic Seeker has just committed a classic case of Blurting to keep Yao off the Snitch! Whether it'll be worth it depends on how well Alvorson can block this shot from Tsai,” Brackenwood called out. “Ooh! Excellent demonstration of the Finbourgh Flick! So much for that, Nordic Team!” Tsai had rather confidently used her broom to bat the Quaffle into one of the goal hoops guarded by Bjørn Alvorson. Molly and Soo Lin let out small noises of delight while the parts of the stadium swathed in scarlet screamed in excitement.

“The Nordics are planning to string things out until they have an 150 point lead so that China can't win, even if they catch the Snitch,” Sherlock piped up, “but it's all for naught.” Molly frowned at this, being the only one who heard him. Had he just told her that China was going to win? How could he know that? She received her answer twenty minutes later while Brackenwood was busy praising Wilhelm Helasson.

“He's on fire tonight, that Helasson, and it's no surprise when he holds the record for the highest number of goals of any living Chaser!” she boomed after the dark haired Norwegian threw a penalty shot over his shoulder and made it. John was gripping his seat and looking just about ready to explode.

“And while everyone's not looking...gotcha,” Sherlock murmured. Molly frowned once more in confusing, looking around to try and spot what he was talking about. She knew what it was a second later when the red sections of the stadium erupted.

“Merlin's Beard! Yao has caught the Snitch! China takes the Cup!” Brackenwood exclaimed and John looked as if he'd had the wind knocked out of him. Soo Lin clapped as hard as she could, beaming at the sight of her brother with the golden ball clasped in his small fist. For the first time since the match had begun, Sherlock lowered his Omnioculars. He did so with the sole purpose of giving Molly an 'I told you so' grin. All she could think to do was mouth 'how'. He only continued to grin.

The Chinese team did a victory lap as red and gold fireworks and confetti filled the dark sky. The Chinese national anthem played loudly, nearly drowning out everything else. The President of the Scandinavian Quidditch League and the Chinese Minister of Magic bowed to each other and shook hands while the Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation brought out the Quidditch Cup itself. It was a great golden thing that made the Hogwarts Quidditch Cup look like a little goblet in comparison.

Reporters from all over the world filed into the box behind the Chinese team when they came to be presented with the Cup. There were several camera flashes as photos of the team and the important officials were taken. Molly noticed when Soo Lin met gazes with her brother, who seemed surprised to see the girl. She made a small gesture to him that looked like some kind of sign language and he nodded, a grin finding its way onto his lips before he looked away from her. Molly was about to ask why Soo Lin didn't get up and go to him, but then the other girl and Mycroft stood, Mycroft with an arm around Soo Lin's shoulders.

“Come along, Sherlock, Molly, John. It's time to go,” he informed them rather more sternly than Molly might have expected. They unquestioningly followed the elder Holmes brother back down the many flights of stairs and out through the forest to the campsite.

All four of the children were still quite filled with energy from the short but exciting match. John yammered on and on about all of the most spectacular moments with an irrepressible air of giddiness and Sherlock haughtily explained all the little deductions he'd made which had led him to the conclusion that China would win, long before it had actually happened. Soo Lin practically skipped as she walked and she lightheartedly bickered with John over which team had played better overall. Molly wanted to whoop with happiness, but she restrained herself, knowing the deadly look she'd get from Mycroft if she didn't.

“Best summer ever!” John exclaimed into the night as he jumped over a fallen tree.

“Is it necessary to tell the whole world?” Mycroft quipped, but he was ignored. They all quieted down a bit when they were back in the tent, although they could easily hear loud celebrations in the distance. Mycroft made them all tea and set out biscuits, which helped them further wind down from the night's excitement. Their mood took a very different turn when an unfamiliar middle aged wizard came in and asked for a moment with Mycroft, who followed the man out and came back a minute later looking rather grim. “I'm afraid I have to go and I don't know how long it will be before I get back. Please be on your best behaviour.”

“What's happened?” Soo Lin asked.

“A Daily Prophet reporter has been killed.” With that, the young man left and the children looked at each other with wide eyes of shock. They didn't really know how to handle this information. What was going on? Were they in danger? It was a silly notion, given that there was no reason to believe that they were, but Molly felt it all the same. That feeling grew the longer they sat there quietly, the feeling that someone was coming for them and not with friendly intentions. The uncomfortable inkling blossomed into panic before long.

“Oh no...oh no...oh no...”

“Molly, what's wrong?” John inquired, exchanging glances of bemusement and worry with the others.

“We have to go. We have to leave now.” Sherlock was about to ask her further questions when they all heard a loud, close by tearing sound and they did not waste another second in bolting out of the tent and into the nearby forest. John tripped on a root in the dark and Molly and Soo Lin helped him before continuing on. They ran and ran until they were sure they were lost and alone. Sherlock lit his wand as they huddled behind a thick tree and they could all see each other's terrified faces.

“What was that?” John demanded after he caught his breath.

“I don't know. Someone was after us. I just got one of those feelings.”

“Why would someone be after us?”

“I think Soo Lin knows,” Sherlock commented as he stared at the girl in question, who looked the most ready of all of them to pass out. “I think it's time you told them the truth.” Now it was clear that Sherlock and Soo Lin shared knowledge of something Sherlock thought might shed light on what had just happened. When Soo Lin said nothing, only meeting they stares of the other three, he went on, “It's not as if they can't be trusted.” The girl then took a deep breath.

“I'm not an exchange student. I'm a refugee,” she confessed and Molly and John's jaws dropped. “There are people looking for me.”

“What do they want?” John pressed.

“They want something I have and they will hurt me and anyone who stands in their way to get it.”

“Oh God,” the blond gasped. “What are we going to do? We can't go back, even if we wanted to. What if they find us?”

“We are going to have to hope that Mycroft will find us first. Until then, we can't doing anything but wait,” Sherlock responded calmly and so they huddled closer to share body heat and he put out his wand, leaving them to wait in utter darkness.

It seemed like an eternity that the four of them sat there, hearing nothing but the sound of each other's breathing, until they saw wand lights in the distance and heard Mycroft and others calling their names. Molly had never seen Sherlock so happy to see his brother as when the elder Holmes and his colleagues arrived, shining their lights on the children and looking quite relieved.

“Oh, thank God,” Mycroft breathed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Et voilà! By now it should be clear that I'm trying to give Soo Lin more than she got in the show. I'm trying really hard to do things right, but I'm aware that I could very well botch it, so if I cross any lines, please feel free to let me know. I don't know when I'll be able to get the next chapter done, so please bear with me.


	20. A New Year on the Wrong Foot

Breakfast the morning after the match was very quiet. The side of the tent where the intruders had entered the previous night was mended, but Molly often glanced at where it had been. They had all been shaken up by what had happened, even the unflappable Mycroft. Between the death of the Daily Prophet reporter and the invasion of the tent, the young man had clearly found it rather hard to get any sleep. There were bags under his eyes and he wore a look that told others that they would receive no mercy should they cross him in even the smallest of ways. Not even Sherlock dared to test him that morning. In fact, the younger Holmes was rather acquiescent to anything his brother asked of him.

They trudged through the emptying campsite silently, walking much closer together than they usually did, and took a Portkey, in the form of a chewed up traffic cone in the middle of a clearing, back to the yard outside the Leaky Cauldron.

It took them all a while to get back into the swing of things. Mycroft urged the children not to speak of what had happened to them to anyone and they obeyed him without question. They even stopped talking about it amongst each other, which helped them move on from it and get on with enjoying the rest of their summer.

They spent their remaining couple of weeks mostly wandering around Diagon Alley together while Mycroft was off at work. Almost every afternoon, they went to Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour and indulged themselves. Mr. Fortescue was very kind to them and let them hang around for as long as they liked, since they weren't a disruptive bunch. Sherlock liked to make observations about the other customers, but he never said them loud enough for anyone but his friends to hear. Their other favourite haunt was Flourish and Blotts, where they could just sit and read for hours on end. Once, Molly and Soo Lin spent an afternoon at Ollivander's and the wandmaker eagerly shared with them much of his knowledge of wandlore while they helped him reshelve wands that had been taken out to be tested by customers. That evening, John recounted to them his adventures in being dragged to the apothecary by Sherlock.

Amidst all of this wandering about, they managed to collect everything they would need for the new school year, though Molly was eventually reminded of the permission form that would allow her to visit Hogsmeade Village on weekends and how Mrs. Digby had not and would never sign it. Mycroft caught her moping about it after dinner the night before she was due to return to Hogwarts.

“Why the sour face?” he asked, sidling up to Molly with his eyebrows slightly furrowed. He'd just arrived back from the Ministry and had found her slouching in a chair, alone at one of the tables in the inn.

“I won't be able to go to Hogsmeade,” Molly sighed in return.

“Let's see the permission slip, then.” Mycroft held out his hand, beckoning for her to give him the paper. She took it from her jumper pocket and unfolded it before handing it over. To her surprise, he drew a fountain pen from his own pocket and signed on the line designated for 'Parent/Guardian' before giving the slip back to her. “This Muggle quill is rather convenient. I shall consider carrying one with me at all times.” Molly wasn't sure what to say. She was in a state of confusion between Mycroft signing her form and him marveling over a pen he'd gotten from God knows where.

“H-How...Wha...”

“I'm financially responsible for you, Ms. Hooper. That grants me enough power to give you permission to spend my money,” Mycroft explained.

“Oh.”

“Now, off to bed with you. You've a train to catch tomorrow morning.” Her mood vastly improved, Molly nodded buoyantly and scurried off up the stairs.

She slept surprisingly well that night, dreaming of nothing and not waking until Soo Lin shook her awake the next morning. They had apparently slept in a bit more than they should have. At least that was what Molly gathered from all of the other girl's rushing about. Instilled with her own sense of urgency, she hurried to get dressed. Fortunately, her trunk was already filled with pretty much all of her possessions, so all that remained for her to be ready was breakfast.

The only thing that stopped her from sliding down the railing to the ground floor was particularly stony expression on Mycroft's face that morning, which she spotted as she came to the upper landing. She took the steps down and silently slid into her place opposite Sherlock, knowing that a 'good morning' would go ignored by both brothers.

As soon as the children had finished their food, Mycroft declared that it was time to head out. They fetched their trunks, brooms, and pets and filed out to the Ministry car that was already waiting for them out front. It was a little bit crowded with John and Gladstone, but not to the point of discomfort, at least not for Molly. Sherlock appeared to be quite uncomfortable at the close proximity of two owls to his precious Basil, whom he held protectively in his hand. Both Gladstone and Yue appeared to be rather interested in the poor mouse, so Sherlock's attitude was not unfounded.

The ride to King's Cross was shorter than usual, which was nice in the face of the awkward silence that had hung in the car the entire way. They arrived at 10:55, to the displeasure of all. They had little time for loitering or hesitation, so they each walked briskly into the the barrier between Platforms 9 and 10 as soon as they found it, not even stopping to say goodbye to Mycroft. They didn't separate until they had gotten safely onto the train, at which point, Sherlock, Molly, and John claimed the first empty compartment they came to and Soo Lin went off to meet Andy and her other friends.

“Why've you and your brother been in such low spirits this morning?” Molly asked Sherlock as soon as they'd settled in. He said nothing in response at first and pulled out a copy of the latest Daily Prophet. Flipping it around, he showed her the headline, which read, 'CHINESE QUIDDITCH STAR SUSPECTED IN MURDER OF REPORTER', causing Molly to gasp. “Has Soo Lin seen this?”

“Not yet.”

“Why didn't you tell her?” The was a slight edge of anger in Molly's voice as she spoke, but Sherlock either didn't detect it or didn't care, because his serious expression remained unchanged.

“We didn't have time for distractions, especially messy, emotional ones.”

“Excuse me?! I think the fact that someone Soo Lin loves is suspected of murder is a little more important than catching the train on time!”

“It's not. Telling her would only hurt her and would do nothing to change her brother's situation. Then she would be hopelessly upset and miss the train, thereby making her situation that much worse,” Sherlock shot back coldly before snatching back his Daily Prophet and opening it to create a barrier between himself and Molly. She wanted to yell at him some more, but she could think of nothing to say. She knew that he was right, even if what he'd said was put hurtfully bluntly. John gave her a sympathetic look and she leaned her head against the seat in resignation.

The atmosphere in the compartment felt odd in contrast to the cheerfully shining sun and Molly stared out at the countryside rolling by as she wondered if she was allowed to ever have a completely nice day.

After a few hours and considerable effort from John to lighten the mood, Molly and Sherlock were speaking to each other again. Molly was asked to hold Basil whilst his owner bought a fresh hoard of sweets from the trolley. It was then that she noticed that Basil seemed a bit off. He wasn't nearly as energetic or curious as usual.

“Sherlock, is Basil alright?” Molly asked when the Ravenclaw had sat down again.

“It's nothing he won't recover from,” he responded quickly, avoiding eye contact with her. She dropped the subject, knowing that he would only get tetchy again if she pressed him even a little. It seemed clear to her that he was much more affected by Basil's condition and this business with Soo Lin's brother than he let on. It was always that way with his emotions, really.

“Ooh, I've got Dumbledore!” John piped up in delight at the newly unwrapped card in his hand.

“Dumbledore's got a Chocolate Frog Card?” Molly questioned and the Gryffindor showed her. There the headmaster was, smiling serenely back at her.

“Of course he has! He defeated the Dark wizard Grindelwald and helped discover the uses of dragon blood.” Molly felt rather badly for not having known that about her own headmaster after all this time. She supposed that it was such common knowledge that nobody bothered to talk about it.

“So that's why he's Order of Merlin, First Class?”

“Yep.”

“Interesting...” Sherlock suddenly muttered and his friends frowned, doubting very much that he found their conversation interesting and instead wondering what he was on about.

“What is it?” John asked and Sherlock folded his paper back to reveal a particular column, which, Molly noticed, occupied the space that Connie Prince's vile work typically inhabited. Upon closure inspection, Molly saw that the new publication was a report of Connie Prince's untimely death. It said that she had died in a potion making accident when she was developing a new perfume. Judging by Sherlock's expression, he did not think that this was a simple accident.

“Don't you think it rather odd that someone who is such an expert in her craft should make so deadly an error? Don't you think it rather curious that this should happen just before the start of term?” Sherlock began as he set aside the Daily Prophet. There was that familiar glint in his eye, the one that told his friends that he thought it was murder. John was quick to brush it off.

“These things do happen, Sherlock. Yes, it's a bit of a freakish coincidence, but not a terribly big one. Not every odd death is a murder, you know.” This put Sherlock in a pout. Quite understandably, he didn't like it when his best friend wouldn't go along with him. Seeing that the atmosphere in the compartment was in danger of turning awkward and gloomy again, Molly put up a metaphorical umbrella as soon as she got the chance.

“Have either of you heard from Hagrid at all over the summer? He did say he'd write.”

“I had an interesting correspondence with him about Dragons,” Sherlock replied casually and John made a particularly indignant face.

“You've been _corresponding_ with Hagrid all summer but you only sent me _one_ short letter?”

“I had more to say to Hagrid. Is that a crime?”

“No, I suppose not, but still.” Molly sighed and once again stepped in to save the conversation.

“So did you get anything from Hagrid, John?”

“Yeah. He sent me a few letters and some samples of his baking. He's a very caring man, isn't he?” Molly gave a nod at this, suddenly feeling quite bad at the thought that Hagrid had probably wrote to her and was most likely a bit hurt that she'd not sent him anything back. They'd have to go down and see him on their first free evening, then, Molly decided. She was sure that the man would be understanding about why she'd not written to him but she felt terribly guilty all the same.

“Stop torturing yourself, Molly. You don't need to be fighting the effects of abuse on two fronts.” The girl's gaze snapped abruptly to Sherlock at this, the light of shock in her eyes. He was looking right at her, staring her down as if doing so would will her to think better of herself.

“I-I'll try,” she replied meekly, not sure how else to react. Sherlock wasn't normally very perceptive of the feelings of others (or is own for that matter), but he had really hit the bullseye blindfolded with this. Molly was stunned by the fact that he'd been paying attention, understood what he'd seen, and spoke up about it. Perhaps it was a residual effect of the plights of Basil and Soo Lin.

Without saying anything more, Sherlock plucked a Peppermint Toad from the pile of sweets between them. Suddenly craving a Chocolate Frog, Molly took one and felt better almost the moment she ate it. After that, things seemed to go back to normal between the three of them, as if some moody fog had lifted.

Before they knew it, the sun had sunk beneath the horizon and they'd talked about everything from Quidditch to the de-gnoming gone wrong which John had experienced at the start of the summer. They were still giggling as they changed into their uniforms and prepared to arrive at Hogsmeade Station.

When the train began to slow, Sherlock carefully stowed a sleeping Basil in the breast pocket of his robes and soon joined Molly and John in the flow of students exiting onto the platform. They met up with Lestrade and Donovan before they reached the carriages, Sherlock and Donovan sending each other silent glares of judgement from the moment they saw one another.

“Er, Hooper?” Lestrade addressed Molly quietly as the five of them selected a carriage.

“Yeah?”

“Are you still seeing the black winged horses?”

“...Yeah. Why?”

“I, er, I see them now too.”

“I'm so sorry.” This response seemed to take Lestrade entirely off guard and he frowned at her.

“Why?”

“Because it means that you've seen someone die.”

“Oh,” the Gryffindor breathed, his dark eyes going wide. “Right then.” It was odd for Molly, knowing something a pure-blood didn't about the magical world, but she felt no satisfaction for it, given the circumstances. Lestrade fell into thoughtful silence for a while, not participating in the conversation the others were having, and Molly felt great sympathy for him.

When they reached the castle, the five of them donned their pointy hats and followed the flow of students into the Great Hall. Molly quickly spotted Meena and took her usual place beside her.

“Hiya, Molly! How was your summer?” the older girl asked excitedly upon seeing her.

“Pretty terrible until the Holmeses took me to the Quidditch World Cup,” Molly admitted.

“Oh my God! You got to go? You _have_ to tell me all about it!” It soon became clear that Meena had eaten too many sweets on the train. She spoke quickly and her reactions to everything were exaggerated. Molly began to tell her about her summer adventures, of course leaving out what had happened the night of the Quidditch World Cup. It had been made quite clear that she was to speak of it to no one. Meena's focused disgust at how she had been treated at the orphanage helped her forget her worries regarding Soo Lin Yao.

Before long, the first years had been called in and sorted into their houses. It was somewhat less interesting than it had been the previous years, since Molly was neither one of those being sorted nor a friend of one. What was of interest to her, and every other student in the room, was the speech that followed and very particularly the headmaster's remarks on the death of the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.

“As I'm sure you have all noticed, we have an empty seat here at the staff table, owing the unfortunate accident that befell Professor Prince not so long ago. Our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Mr. Edward Van Coon, will be arriving next week. I'm sure you will all get along very well with him. He has already done us a great service by agreeing to take the position on such short notice. I'm also sure that all our hearts go out to Professor Prince's family during this sad and difficult time.” The hall was completely silent as he spoke. No one even whispered about the name he had dropped. Though Professor Prince hadn't been much liked by her students, no one was going to be so cold as to disrespect her death.

Later, in the comfort of the Hufflepuff Common Room, Molly did hear others talking about the new teacher. No one seemed to really know who Edward Van Coon was, although one boy said that he had heard from a Slytherin friend, whose elder brother was in business, that Van Coon worked with the goblins at Gringott's Bank. Whether or not that was true remained to be seen. Molly chose to put it out of her mind and simply enjoy the fact that she was back at Hogwarts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the shortness and poor quality. Life has been really putting me through the ringer these past few months and it doesn't look like it'll be letting up anytime soon. All the same, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I'll try to get the next one done soon, but as always, I can't make any promises.


	21. Respect

To Molly Hooper's delight, she found on the very first morning when they all received their time tables that both of her new classes were scheduled with Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw together. Sherlock was taking Care of Magical Creatures and Alchemy as well and that meant she'd get to see him more often.

Care of Magical Creatures was first thing that morning and she and Sherlock separated from John, who was headed off to Transfiguration, in the Entrance Hall and went out to the grounds, bickering with each other all the while about where they should go to meet the professor when 'GROUNDS' was marked under 'Classroom #' for the course. Eventually, they agreed to go down and ask Hagrid where Professor Kettleburn usually conducted class.

The walk was a nice one. The weather was just as lovely as it had been the previous day and the cool morning air helped chase away what remained of the drowsiness in their heads. They kept to the path to avoid getting their shoes wet with the dew that clung to the grass. When they arrived at Hagrid's hut, they found him in his garden, tending to his considerable pumpkin patch.

“Good morning, Hagrid,” Sherlock called and the huge man looked up. He beamed at the boy and waved jovially.

“Ah! Mornin', Sherlock...Molly.” The pause said everything Molly needed to know about how Hagrid felt about not getting any replies to his letters.

“Listen, Hagrid, I'm really sorry. I promise I've got a good explanation, but it'll have to wait. Sherlock and I need to find Professor Kettleburn so that we're not late for Care of Magical Creatures,” Molly told the gamekeeper's assistant rather rapidly. The words had come spilling out like water in a glass that had just had a large rock dropped into it, the rock in this case being guilt. This seemed to satisfy Hagrid and he became instantly more friendly.

“Yer lucky ye came this way, then. Professor Kettleburn passed by not two minutes ago. He'll be tha' way.” Hagrid pointed towards the Forbidden Forest and Sherlock's eyes immediately lit up.

“Great. Thank you so much. Oh, and, er, tea Saturday?” Molly responded and the bushy bearded man smiled at her.

“O' course. Now you two best be off. I don't know what Professor Kettleburn was thinkin', not tellin' ye where t'go.” That settled, the two third years went on their way. It made Molly admittedly a bit nervous to be going into the Forbidden Forest, because it was, after all,  _ forbidden _ and for good reason, but since it was daytime and this was for a class, she reasoned that it couldn't be all that bad. Sherlock seemed totally unconcerned, which helped. Once she got over it, she was able to appreciate the beauty of the forest, how the morning light filtered through the canopy and the exposed roots of the trees creating steps that led them up and down the terrain.

The pair finally found Professor Kettleburn quite a ways into the forest. With him were a couple of centaurs and they appeared to be having some sort of thoughtful discussion. It wasn't until the two students got closer that they learned that todays lesson would be about centaurs. The two in question looked up when Sherlock and Molly approached, which prompted the teacher to turn around and beam at them.

“Ah! Students already! Come, come! Don't be shy!” Professor Kettleburn was apparently a very energetic sort of wizard, as was evident in the way he greeted them and beckoned for them to come forward. After sharing a slightly bewildered glance, the pair came closer. “May I have your names?” he asked as a piece of parchment floated out of the sleeve of his robes and unfolded in midair.

“Holmes.”

“Hooper.”

“Oh look, one just below the other. Lovely.” The teacher tapped their names on the parchment with his wand and the black ink turned green. “I'll wait until the rest of the class arrives to do introductions. I wouldn't want anybody to miss anything.”

“That might be quite a wait,” Sherlock commented dryly and Molly elbowed him for being rude. Kettleburn's brow furrowed.

“Why?”

“Well, you didn't tell any of us where on the grounds to meet, so I imagine there are a lot of students wandering around aimlessly right now.”

“Oh dear!” the professor exclaimed. “I must have forgotten to make the announcement at breakfast. I'm dreadfully sorry. Stay here please while I fix this.” Without another word, he rushed off back towards the castle, leaving Sherlock and Molly alone with the centaurs in awkward silence.

“Right,” Molly muttered, trying her best not to feel intimidated. Taking a deep breath, she stepped forward and extended her hand to the friendlier looking of the two centaurs. “Good morning. My name is Molly Hooper.”

“You would offer your hand to me as your equal?” the centaur questioned after staring at her for a moment. She couldn't tell whether he was pleased or offended, so she decided to give the simplest, most honest answer.

“Yes, of course.” This appeared to have been the right thing to say, because the centaur shook her hand a second later.

“I am Breon. This is Faxi. She is my herd leader and life mate.” Molly was quick to offer her hand to the other centaur upon this introduction. She feared for second that she would be rejected, but then Faxi took her hand and firmly shook it.

“You are welcome among us, Molly Hooper. There are few humans willing to humble themselves as you have,” the female centaur said in a smooth, alto voice. Molly had to admit that she was a tiny bit starstruck and her mouth hung open, though no reply came out. “Your companion, the plain speaker, what is his name?”

“Sherlock Holmes,” Molly answered, giving her friend a meaningful glance. Taking her hint, the Ravenclaw extended his hand, which Faxi did not hesitate to shake.

“We know who you were, who you are, and who you will be. It is a pleasure to meet you, Sherlock Holmes.” As if these words were not astonishing enough, Faxi and Breon proceeded to bow to Sherlock. He and Molly stared in shock, both knowing enough about centaurs already to be aware that it was no small thing when they behaved this way to a human. What destiny could Sherlock possibly have that such creatures would respect him so immediately?

“Well, isn't this a lovely thing?” The pair whirled around at the familiar voice of their teacher to find him returned with a number of other Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw third years behind him. “Class, I'd like you to meet Faxi and Breon, members of the centaur herd here in the forest. They've kindly agreed to participate in today's lesson. Now, it seems Mr. Holmes and Ms. Hooper have already gotten the chance to get acquainted. The rest of you, why don't you line up and introduce yourselves. Just say your name and offer your hand. No need to be shy,” Professor Kettleburn began cheerfully.

Nervously, the other students came forward, one by one, and shook hands with Faxi and Breon while Sherlock and Molly stood to the side and watched with Kettleburn.

“Now, can anybody guess what the theme of today's lesson is?” the teacher asked once everyone had gotten a chance to introduce themselves. Nobody called out a guess or even raised their hand. “Respect, my dear students. Respect is the foundation of everything you will be learning in this class. You cannot hope to interact meaningfully with magical creatures if you don't afford them the proper respect. Some of you may be thinking that you'll win respect with your wands, but I must impress upon you now that that is entirely the wrong way of going about things.” A red headed Ravenclaw girl raised her hand at this. “Yes, Ms. Reppert?”

“What if we're being attacked?”

“Then all the more reason for you to respect the creature attacking you. Harming another sentient creature is never, ever to be taken lightly. Understood?” Kettleburn responded sincerely.

“Yes, sir.” Reppert looked decidedly as if she didn't understand, despite her words, but the professor didn't dwell on it.

“Now, I want you all to sit down and take out a quill and parchment, because you'll be needing to take notes. Faxi and Breon are going to talk about centaur culture.” At this, there was a bit of a scuffle over who got to sit on the nearby fallen tree. Everyone else settled on the ground and pulled out writing materials from their bags. They stayed quiet and listened while the centaur spoke of their traditions and beliefs. They were a bit long winded and had a habit of making vague references to things no one else knew about, which eventually caused a number of students to tune out, their eyes staring blankly forward, but Molly was captivated and she wrote down everything. Sherlock wrote down nothing, but oddly enough still seemed equally interested.

Faxi and Breon spoke at length about the art of Divination and even shared a little bit of information about how to read the planets and stars. Molly remembered how John had scoffed at the subject, but to these creatures, seeing the future appeared to be very serious business indeed.

At the end of the lesson, when everyone was packing up, Breon lingered and approached Molly just as she was about to follow Sherlock back to the castle.

“Bring him to us when the time comes,” he told her, his voice only loud enough for her to hear. She looked back at him in complete confusion.

“Sorry?”

“The planets have chosen him.” Without any further explanation, Breon turned and left in the same direction as his mate, leaving Molly no more enlightened than she had been before. Who had he been talking about?  _ What _ had he been talking about? Unable to answer either of these questions, the Hufflepuff put it out of her mind and went on her way.

Next, she was off to Charms, where she would get to see John and tell him all about what Care of Magical Creatures had been like. He was taking the course as well and would be heading out to the forest that afternoon for his first lesson. Unfortunately, before Molly could get to the classroom, she was waylaid by none other than Peeves the Poltergeist.

“Oooh, if it isn't Molly Wolly Hoops!” he greeted when he twirled down from the ceiling.

“Hello, Peeves.”

“Should tell you the nasty things the other girlies been saying about you, I should,” he went on, clapping the chalkboard erasers in his little hands over her head so that she was covered in chalk dust and she sneezed as she tried to brush herself off.

“Oh no, please don't,” Molly pleaded. Not only was she in danger of being late to Charms, but she already had some idea of what insults people had been tossing around and she didn't want to hear them. Of course, asking Peeves to do something was almost a guarantee that he wouldn't do it and so it was no shock when he started reciting a long litany of blood-purist slurs and who had used them in reference to her.

“Peeves!” The familiar severe tones of the young Professor McGonagall carried down the corridor and Molly looked around to see the woman herself approaching, livid. “You will never say any of those disgusting words again, do you hear me? I'll be speaking to the Bloody Baron about this!” The mention of the Slytherin House Ghost succeeded in striking fear into the poltergeist's heart like nothing else could.

“Apologies, miss! Meant no offense! Molly Wolly's just as much witch as the rest, of course!” With an awkward cackle, Peeves zoomed off as if he feared that the Bloody Baron would appear at any moment.

“Thanks, professor,” Molly said, sighing with relief and McGonagall gave her a sympathetic smile.

“You're welcome, Ms. Hooper. There are many things we must tolerate from Peeves, but I refuse to let bigotry be one of them. Now, I do believe Professor Flitwick is expecting you.”

“Yes, ma'am.” With that, Molly hurried the rest of the way to Charms and arrived just in time. She took her usual seat beside John, slightly out of breath.

“Blimey, Molly, where've you been?” the Gryffindor asked with a frown, eyeing the chalk dust that was still in her hair and on her robes, and she explained about Peeves. “That does seem a bit low, even for Peeves. I mean, I know he wasn't directly insulting you, but he was obviously trying to upset you. Good thing McGonagall was there to stop him. I'm not surprised about him mentioning the Black sisters or Yaxley, but Matthews and Williams? I thought they were decent people.”

“Apparently not,” Molly replied glumly, resting her chin in her palm. She did her best to look more disappointed than deeply hurt like she really was by the incident. Thankfully, Professor Flitwick soon provided a distraction. He instructed them to open their copies of the Standard Book of Spells, Grade 3 and take out their wands. Today, they would be learning how to do Cheering Charms, which was exactly what Molly needed.

By the time she and John came out of class, she felt as if she were on top of the world and nothing could spoil her day. Listening to Sherlock complain all the way to Defense Against the Dark Arts that afternoon about how Sebastian Wilkes had dropped a full tray of Puffapods on him in Herbology didn't bother her in the slightest. Not even spotting Anna Matthews' head of hip length brown hair at the front of the DADA class when they came in could dampen her spirits, which she would later consider a testament to John's skill with Cheering Charms. Of course, it also helped that their new DADA teacher wasn't half bad.

Professor Van Coon was a young, conventionally handsome wizard with dark hair and eyes, who wore fashionable dark green robes and seemed to be the essence of cool. Molly could easily picture him swaggering down the steps of Gringotts. She didn't want to admit it, but she, like most of the class, was immediately taken in by his charm.

“Good afternoon. My name is Edward Van Coon. Oh dear, that rhymed,” he began and laughed at himself. The students joined in good-naturedly. “As you may already have heard, I was, until recently, a banker at Gringotts. It was my task to travel around the world on behalf of the goblins and I saw a lot more excitement than I expected when I first took the job. I enjoyed that part of being a banker, but I'm afraid I got tired of goblins constantly giving me dirty looks, so here I am, you're new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Now, you can put your books away. We won't be cracking those until next class. Instead, I thought it would be nice if I let you all choose what we'd learn today.”

This was an exciting prospect for the students, since they'd never been allowed to choose topics or even guide discussion before. Most notably, it succeeded in making Sherlock give Van Coon his complete attention. It almost caused Molly to giggle, the way her friend perked up. It was really quite endearing.

The class ended up spending the entire period interrogating the teacher about goblins and the various myths about the bank. He didn't seemed to mind at all and peppered his explanations with humour. He told them everything from how you should never patronize a goblin to the fact that, yes, there really were dragons guarding the high security vaults at Gringotts.

Half the students left that afternoon with massive crushes on Professor Van Coon and the other half just generally liked him. Even Sherlock, who was heavily critical of anyone in whom he detected the slightest level of incompetence, seemed to approve of the man, which was saying something.

After that, Molly found paying attention in History of Magic to be even more of a trial than usual. Professor Binns was perhaps the very antithesis of Professor Van Coon. The ghost droned on and on without even seeming to notice what state his students were in. Even worse was the fact that neither John nor Sherlock were there with her to pass notes to and the Gentry twins had fallen fast asleep not even a third of the way through the class.

By the time Molly made her way to the Great Hall for dinner, she was exhausted and quite ready to pass out. Meena had a job keeping her from faceplanting in her soup. Still, it had been a good first day back, all things considered. 

After she managed to finish her dinner, she dragged herself up to the library to meet her best friends, who were already deep into an argument about Quidditch. Molly didn't want to get involved, so she tuned them out until they invited her into the conversation by bringing up the arrangement to go and visit Hagrid on Saturday. This morphed into a discussion of Care of Magical Creatures and the centaurs.

“Honestly, John, you should have seen the way they were looking at Sherlock. It was like he'd done them some great service,” Molly said as she recounted to John Faxi and Breon's reactions to their Ravenclaw friend.

“Weird,” John replied with a scowl. “I mean Divination is usually a load of tosh, but it does get you wondering sometimes when stuff like this happens.” He eyed Sherlock and clutched his chest in mock surprise before adding in a very silly, falsetto voice, “Merlin's Beard! Sherlock Holmes! He who is destined for greatness! Can I have your autograph so I can sell it for a huge pile of gold when you become famous?” Sherlock then shoved the laughing Gryffindor out of his seat. In Molly's own fit of giggles and the ensuing dressing down from Madam Pince, she completely forgot to tell the boys about what Breon had said to her about the planet choosing Sherlock and it settled deep into the back of her mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooooh, plot things. *wiggles fingers ominously* What could Breon possibly have meant? I'd like to note to people who aren't aware: Divination was not a taught subject at Hogwarts until after Sybill Trelawney made the prophecy about Voldemort. Anyway, I hope this chapter was a good mix of fluff and plot thickener. I'd be much obliged to reviewers if you'd let me know which of the secondary/background characters (from anywhere in the story) you'd like to see more of. Thanks for reading!


End file.
